Criminal
by laurenloogie
Summary: Wandering the fringes of society, branded as a criminal... even the most hardened shinobi can falter under the stress. KisaDei plus other Akatsuki and Kiri pairings. Yaoi, lemon, rape
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one: the massacre

"Sake?"

"Yeah, sake. What the hell does it look like? I feel like celebrating."

It was an unusually nice day - the clear afternoon sky was an absurdly bright, neon shade of blue, and a mild, warm breeze rustled the leaves on the trees. The forests in the Land of Rivers were dense and ancient, studded with enourmous old trees whose foliage formed a canopy far above their heads. Little patches of sunlight streamed through gaps in the cover, dancing over the forest floor with the fluttering of the leaves, and Kisame had to admit that a day this beautiful was reason in itself to celebrate. He glanced over to find Deidara shifting the bottle of sake in his hands, a mischevious, almost lewd grin curving his lips. The blonde was still hopped up from his battle, practically glowing with energy, his innocent appearance barely concealing the bloodlust that seethed just under the surface. How many people had he killed just a few hours earlier? Fifty? Seventy? And barely a scratch on him - the blood that stained a few of the clouds on his Akatsuski robe was almost certainly someone else's. Deidara had definitely executed their mission with terrifying skill, and the bottle he had grabbed from the wreckage was just excessive proof that he'd enjoyed the slaughter. Feeling tired and a little old, Kisame had to remind himself that the blonde's lust for killing was no more than an asset... after all, what was a shinobi other than a weapon? And a weapon that faltered in the face of carnage was, well... _useless. _He broke from his thoughts and stole another glance in the blonde's direction. Deidara was staring at him with a feverishly bright blue eye, doing little to hide his impatience.

"I don't know," Kisame finally sighed. "We're not really supposed to drink... Pain will have a fit if he finds out..."

Deidara snorted a gay little 'hmph' and rolled his eyes. "You can't be serious," he said. "We completed our mission, didn't we? Or rather, _I_ completed our mission. You just watched, hmm." Grinning, he tossed the bottle in the air, giving it some torque, and caught it in mid-spin. "I think you're just being a kurmudgen." He pointed the bottle accusingly at Kisame, his face an exaggerated mask of disdain.

"Shit," the swordman muttered. "Have a little respect for your seniors... fucking brat."

"Ugh, stop calling me that," Deidara retorted, scowling. "After that battle, you should have a little respect for _me_, don't you think? It was a _masterpiece._"

"Masterpiece?" said Kisame, feeling an ironic smirk curve his lips. "No, that was a _massacre._" He glanced over at the blonde to find him practically beaming, as if that had been a compliment. But he supposed it was, in a way. After all, their orders had been to massacre - Pain had even used that exact word to describe it...

Their mission had been to take down a gang of thugs who had recently been encroaching on one of the Akatsuki's loosely defined territories in the Land of Rice Paddies. The land was constantly in turmoil, so villages often made pacts with shady organizations such as the Akatsuki to protect them from marauders and whatnot. In return, they'd give whatever their village had to offer, which was usually rice, vegetables, and occasionally some meat. But hey, even the Akatsuki had to eat, and killing off a few attackers now and then was a small price to pay. The thugs recently causing problems had been a rising nuance in the region over the past few months, gaining territories and generally just stirring up shit. But they had barged in on the wrong territory, and the Akatsuki weren't exactly known for taking half-assed measures. It was Pain's mantra to inflict utter devastation on anyone who crossed him - delivering what he considered to be the wrath of a god.

The original plan had been to send Deidara and Sasori, but Sasori had just acquired some new 'puppets', meaning he had captured some shinobi with interesting jutsu that he wanted to gut alive and preserve for his collection. Sasori was a stubborn son of a bitch, especially when it came to 'art', so Pain hadn't even argued over it. Coincidentally, Kisame and Itachi had been getting some so-called r&r in the same hideout, meaning Itachi had fallen ill and was confined to bedrest until the symptoms of his chronic disease weren't so blatant... so the answer had been obvious. Sweeping executions weren't really Kisame's style, but no one else had been around to carry out the mission with Deidara. So it goes.

In the end, though, Kisame didn't have to do shit. They only had vague intel as to the whereabouts of the enemy base, but Deidara had found it in surprisingly little time from the sky. The camp, hidden along the western border of the Land of Rivers, was protected by a cliff face on one side and a huge, bristling wall of sharpened logs that ran around the remaining perimeter. As Kisame soon found out, though, the defenses merely ended up leaving the enemy penned in like cattle for slaughter in the face of Deidara's jutsu.

"Just watch me," the blonde had said, eyes bright with anticipation. "Enjoy the show... and kill anyone who tries to escape." Kisame had grudgingly agreed... he didn't give a flying fuck who did what as long as they completed their mission. So he had perched in a tree outside the fort-like walls that provided a decent view inside, sat back, and watched the show.

He had never worked with Deidara before, so he'd had no idea what to expect, but the battle that enfolded before his eyes exceeded any vague expectations he might have had. It was nothing like the blonde's embarrassing fight with Itachi that had duped him into joining the Ataksuki - Deidara's justu was violence and chaos unlike anything he'd ever witnessed. He was like some kind of fucked up deity, raining down destruction from the heavens, laughing in delight as the poor shits below tried to hit him with arrows and spears. He plummeted and spiraled through the sky on his clay hawk as if flying was second nature, and didn't seem to give a damn that one mistake could send him falling to his death. Within the first minute, the entire encampment was ablaze - maimed thugs ran screaming from erupting buildings, only to be blown to smitherenes the second they made it outside. Soon, there was so much smoke in the air that Kisame could barely see what was going on, but the chorus of terrified screams and the smell of burning flesh told the story for him. The stout fortress walls that had protected the camp so well in the past were now doing the exact opposite; he watched with a bemused grin as those still alive tried desperately to climb their way to freedom, only to be picked off by one of Deidara's kunai as he swooped by. The only way in or out was a huge gate that looked like it took a fair amount of manpower to open, and in the midst of the chaos, no one was level-headed enough to even get it to budge. _What an idiotic design..._ Kisame mused, laughing outloud at the morbid irony of it all until there was no one left able to climb.

Eventually, the flames died down to embers, and Kisame caught glimpses of Deidara, on foot now, searching among the rubble for survivors and methodically slitting their throats. When every last thug was either dead or mortally wounded to his satisfaction, he remounted his hawk and emerged over the wall, grinning wildly. He landed gracefully by Kisame at the base of the tree, smudged with soot and blood.

"Well that was fun," he said lightly, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I wish more missions were that exciting."

Kisame grinned, baring teeth. "Careful what you wish for," he said. "The way you fight, you'll be dead in no time." He tried to think of something else demeaning to say, but his tongue was tied. Perhaps he was a bit shellshocked... Deidara's jutsu was the loudest, flashiest form of fighting he'd ever witnessed. Absent-mindedly, he licked his thumb and wiped a smudge of soot off the blonde's cheek. The skin under his thumb was warm and smooth and he was hit with a nearly irresistable urge to linger there, but he pushed the thought away, cursing himself as he withdrew his hand. He searched his mind for something to say and finally came up with "you're an idiot."

Deidara snorted. "Whatever," he growled. "You're just jealous." He ran his fingers through his hair again and looked back toward the wreckage, hiding his face... but Kisame could have sworn he'd seen a blush on his cheeks.

He sighed. There was an uncomfortable tightness in his pants and it took him a second to realize he had an erection. He rolled his eyes, disgusted with himself, and straightened his jacket to ensure it was covered up. "Let's get going," he mumbled. "This place reeks of burning flesh..."

"Fine," Deidara said, shrugging. So they embarked on their three day journey back to the nearest hideout, leaving the smoking wreckage of the camp behind them until it was nothing but a black smudge on the horizon.

Which led them to the present. They had been walking for a solid three hours, Deidara bounding ahead then lagging behind Kisame's steady pace, chattering away as he dug around for the exploding mushrooms he ground up into his clay, or paused to admire a flower. And the whole while, Kisame felt a burning in his gut and a tightness in his throat that could only be lust. His would find himself ogling as the blonde bent over to inspect something, reveling in the slender curves that barely showed through the loose folds of his jacket. It had been like this through the whole mission - starting with a mild interest, then quickly festering to flat-out lust. In fact, he could barely remember the last time he'd gotten laid, and hadn't even dwelled on it until now. Perhaps he had been ignoring his hormones for too long, because sheer willpower was the only thing preventing him from pinning Deidara against a tree and splitting open that cute little ass with his angry, ten-inch cock. And the weird thing was, he hadn't even thought about a man this way in ages... he'd actually been convinced he'd become straight. There was just something about Deidara that transcended gender, a sex appeal so palpable he could feel it, like electricity. And now the blonde wanted to get drunk? He could barely believe it but the proof was right before his eyes, impatiently tossing his hair and shifting the bottle in his hands.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," Kisame finally sighed. "Honestly, I don't know why you're even asking for my permission. But..." He let a grin slide over his lips. "...You should probably share it with me, just so you don't get too wasted." _Well... actually, it wouldn't be all that bad,_ he mused. _Too shitfaced to defend himself, or to remember anything the next day..._

"Ha, alright," Deidara said, beaming. Without further ado, he uncorked the bottle and took a drink. "I haven't had a single drop since i joined this fuckin' organization," he griped, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Sasori doesn't allow it... says it'll impair my integrity or some crap."

"Yah, Sasori's, err... _cautious_," Kisame said as he sauntered up, snatched the bottle and took a sizeable drink.

"Cautious is an understatement," Deidara huffed. "The last time he caught me with booze, he broke the full bottle over my fuckin' skull!" He grazed his fingertips over the back of his head and winced. "Big-ass ceramic bottle... I hadn't even opened it..." he muttered. "I swear, he has no regard for those of us who still feel pain."

"Heh, what a prick... so this was recent?" Kisame asked, smirking. Deidara's answer was a scowl and a glare, and Kisame noticed that the blonde had to tilt his head up to meet his gaze. In fact, the top of the younger man's head barely came up to his shoulders, and the vast difference in height only turned him on more. The blonde was so small it made him appear fragile, in a way... Kisame longed to see what that delicate little body would look like after being ravaged, cut up and bruised by his sharp teeth and calloused hands - like a broken piece of china.

"It doesn't matter when it happened," Deidara sighed, shifting uncomfortably. "As if you give a shit."

"Hey, now," Kisame chuckled, wondering briefly if he had been caught ogling. "I was trying to at least give you the _illusion _that I care."

A snort of dry laughter escaped Deidara's lips. "Leave the illusions to your partner, hmm?" he said. "You're about as sympathetic as a rock. Maybe even less... at least rocks don't talk shit."

"That's a stupid analogy," Kisame muttered. He took another big slam of sake, watching the blonde's patience thin as he drank.

"Fuck, Kisame!" Deidara predictably burst. "I agreed to share that with you, not watch you drink it all!"

"Ha, what was that?" Kisame sneered as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why don't you go tell your problems to a rock then, eh? Whiny brat."

Deidara's eyes narrowed and his hands flexed at his sides, and warning signals flashed through Kisame's brain. The blonde's appearance had shifted - bipolarly so - from harmless to violent... the swordsman was suddenly filled with an uncomfortable, edgy regret that he was such a shit-talker. Sasori had warned him that it didn't take much to push the brat over the edge. "This is gonna end up one of two ways," Deidara grated tensely.

"Oh yah?" Kisame growled. He could feel Samehada bristling against his back. "How's it gonna end, Deidara?"

"If you keep acting like an asshole, this forest is gonna be scattered with burning chunks of blue flesh!" Deidara shouted. "Damnit, I'm so sick of you I could vomit! This entire mission you've been like a fuckin'... playground _bully_! Where the hell do you get off?"

"In your fuckin' mouth, bitch," Kisame spat. He was quickly becoming annoyed - it was festering like an itch he couldn't scratch. "I'm sick of your stupid analogies... do you think Kirigakure had a fucking playground?" He took a sip of sake, grinning fiercely, then spat it onto Deidara's face. He barely had time to relish in how the sake kind of looked like gizz splattered across the brat's pale skin before the blonde's hand had disappeared under his jacket, going for his clay.

"Don't you fucking _dare!_" the swordsman snapped - and then he was in motion, charging toward Deidara at full speed, subconciously plugging the bottle of sake with his thumb. The blonde's face was an almost insane mask of hatred as he nimbly dodged out of harm's way, and Kisame was sorely reminded of how much he hated going up against long-range fighters. They were always so hard to hit...

Five minutes later, the forest had been transformed into a fiery hell pit by Deidara's bombs. The ground was pocked with craters and splintered wood, and the air shimmered with heat. Falling branches were almost as much of a concern as the bombs themselves, snapping from the burning trunks and plummeting down like fiery spears. Luckily, the dense upper canopy was still unharmed, for Kisame feared it would catch like kindling and set fire to the whole damn Land of Rivers. The swordman himself was a fucking mess - his jacket had caught fire at some point and had burned him quite severely before he'd been able to rip it off, and he had been punctured by a few splinters of wood, hurled from the blasts like shrapnel. But none of the wounds were fatal, so he hadn't had Samehada heal him... he didn't want Deidara to find out and up the ante. Not like he had time to heal anyway - the blonde was hitting him with so many attacks he barely even had time to form hand signs, and the suiton-release jutsu he had used so far had just been damage control - putting out fires that were creeping too close to the canopy. He glanced up and caught sight of Deidara, who was still unharmed, perched on a branch far above the range of the fire. The little bastard's bombs were so fast and accurate that he could hold a fight from an insane distance, and Kisame had been knocked down by explosions every time he'd tried to climb up. So in conclusion, the last five minutes had sucked, hard.

_Well, since the terrain's in Deidara's favor, I guess I'll just have to change it,_ he thought to himself, briefly pulling his thumb out of the sake and taking a quick sip. _It's time to put an end to this bullshit._

He sent up a water clone first, to give himself some cover. It wasn't the clone that provided the cover, though - it was Deidara's predictable reaction. The explosion was a deafening ball of fire and smoke, and it gave Kisame just enough time to get his water shockwave jutsu going unnoticed. By the time the smoke had cleared, the water was expanding upward so fast it was nearly to Deidara's elevation before he even noticed - Kisame was delighted to see the blonde actually fail at evading for once and get sucked neatly under the surface. The water was a disgusting slurry of ash and blackened tree limbs, studded with charred trunks and branches, and Kisame was almost certain that the blonde couldn't see shit... but his own eyes could see just fine. This is what they were really meant for, after all. He could see quite clearly that Deidara, unfamiliar with this jutsu, was still clinging to the same branch he'd been perched on, eyes squinting as he tried to analyze the situation. Fitfully, he shed his jacket, letting it float away, then jammed a hand into his pouch of clay, confirming the swordsman's theory that the bombs worked underwater. Well, no matter. This was going to be over soon no matter what the blonde had up his sleeve - underwater, Kisame had the upper hand regardless of how many bombs were spit at him.

Hidden behind a large, charred trunk, he quickly unwrapped Samehada from its binding. The weapon was visibly excited to be underwater, flexing its spines and chomping its sharp teeth. He had never shown the blonde what the sword looked like - the brat probably assumed it was just a big metal blade - so he had the advantage of surprise. He gave Samehada a subvocal command and gently released it, then watched from behind the trunk as it swam swiftly toward Deidara. Underwater, Samehada was more of an animal than a sword - its spines worked as a thousand little fins, rippling as it swam - and the way it twisted through the water was more akin to a snake than a shark. It was frightfully fast and agile - even he couldn't outswim it.

The fight was over so quickly it was almost anticlimactic. Just as Kisame had predicted, Deidara was nearly blind in the murky water, so Samehada had crept up on him unnoticed. The blonde had sent out a few mine-type bombs that, artfully, looked like squid, but Samehada had felt their chakra and neatly avoided them. Once past the mines, it had viciously wrapped itself around the unsuspecting blonde, digging its spines into his flesh. There wasn't much of a struggle - the whole thing had happened in just a matter of seconds - and now Deidara was squirming around uselessly, losing air as he shouted a stream of curses, his blood diffusing into murky clouds. Grinning, Kisame secured himself on a stout branch, then released the water prison with a quick hand sign. Immobilized by Samehada, the blonde went plummeting to the earth along with the million gallons of water, and cried out in pain as he hit the ground with a loud thud. Nearly beside himself with triumph, Kisame jumped down from branch to branch and landed lightly by his mangled victory. Deidara had landed in a puddle of ash-grey mud - he was covered in it - and blood was oozing from Samehada's embedded spines. The sword, unaffected by the impact, was gleefully absorbing the blonde's chakra, bloating like a spiky leech. When it felt Kisame's presence, it unwrapped itself from the motionless body and wriggled up to his feet like a dog that had fetched a stick.

"Heh, good job," Kisame said aloud, giving it a pat. It arched gratefully against his hand then healed him, twining its tail-like hilt around his ankle. Once his wounds had disappeared to little more than off-color scars, he knelt down over the blonde, who had been watching him silently out of one wincing, heavy-lidded eye. The scope over his left eye was caked with mud and filthy water was leaking from the lense, rendering it utterly useless.

"I should fuckin' kill you," the swordsman growled. "To say that was annoying would be a huge understatement."

Deidara coughed weakly, spitting up a fair amount of muddy water. "Then fuckin' kill me," he rasped. "I'm obviously no more than a nuisance to you..." His gaze shifted to the bottle of sake, which had remained unharmed through the entire battle, and the look on his face was of absolute despair. "If you can beat me one-handed, what good am I?" he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "I train so fucking hard... but it's all just pointless..."

"Shut up, Deidara," Kisame snapped. Without thinking, he roughly backhanded the blonde in the jaw, snapping his head to the side. The younger man cried out hoarsely and a trickle of blood spilled out the side of his mouth. "This whole stupid fight was about the sake," the swordsman grated. "And now you're bitching because I went through the trouble of saving it?" He realized his thumb was still corking the bottle and pulled it out, then flexed his stiff hand. "It was a huge pain in the ass," he growled. "You should be grateful."

Deidara sighed raggedly, and Kisame was shocked to see that he was blushing under all that mud. With tremendous effort, he shakily propped himself up onto one elbow. "If you went through all that trouble, let me have a drink," he murmured, reaching for the bottle. When he took it from Kisame's hand, his grip was so weak he nearly dropped it before raising it to his lips.

"Fuckin' Samehada..." Kisame mumbled, disgusted with himself that he was feeling empathy. "It almost sucked your chakra dry." He looked over to find the bloated weapon scooting around contentedly in a puddle of mud.

"Your pet needs a bath," Deidara mumbled, gazing listlessly at the muddy sword. "For one of the infamous Great Blades... it's acting kinda cute."

Kisame snorted, feeling a grin tug his lips. "I don't know if 'cute' is the right word," he said. His gaze swung back over to Deidara, who was taking another drink of sake, his slender throat bobbing as he swallowed. Perverted thoughts crowded the swordsman's mind and he couldn't help but dwell on how helpless the blonde was - it was a simple fact that he could do terrible, unforgivable things to Deidara's body without getting more than a scratch. _I could strip him naked and rape him right here in the mud,_ he told himself. Dizzy from his own black imagination, he took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to remain calm.

"Damn, I'm thirsty," Deidara panted, breaking Kisame's evil train of thought. "And to think I was about to drown a minute ago..." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, only succeeding in smearing around the mud. Too drained to be frustrated, he mumbled a curse then sluggishly removed his scope, peeling the wet material from the side of his face. Filthy water trapped in the eyepiece flooded down his cheek, cutting a path through the mud... it looked oddly as though he'd been crying out of just one eye.

"Shit. You're a mess," Kisame mumbled.

"Screw you, Kisame..." Deidara's supporting arm was shaking with strain - he laughed bitterly when it finally gave way and his head splashed back into the mud. The bottle of sake slipped out of his hand and nearly spilled before Kisame snatched it up. "I take it back," the blonde murmured. "There's nothing cute about Samehada. I feel like absolute shit."

"Well, you brought it on yourself," Kisame said. "You have no control over your temper."

"Like I need a fucking lecture right now," Deidara sighed. "As a matter of fact, why the hell are you even still here? You should just leave me to rot in this mud... Or do you enjoy watching people suffer? _Hmm?_"

"Maybe I do," Kisame growled, a grin sliding over his lips. "I swear, Deidara... you're in no position to talk shit."

"Ha, what're you gonna do?"" Deidara sneered. "You a pervert or something?"

"Ugh, shut the fuck up," Kisame muttered. "It's not my fault you look like a fuckin'... chick with a dick." He sighed and took a drink of sake, glad that he had gone through the trouble of saving it. When he lowered the bottle he saw that Deidara was, predictably, blushing a pretty shade of red. "What, you surprised?" he said, the sarcasm obvious in his tone. "As if there's not a confused straight guy left jerking off in the wake of everyone you've met."

"You really have a way with words, Kisame..." Diedara sighed, rolling his eyes. "But honestly, you're not half-"

Kisame's hand shot out and clamped over the blonde's mouth before he could summon the phrase 'shut up.' He had _felt_ something, and when he looked over at Samehada, the sword was bristling aggressively. Deidara was squirming and shouting muffled curses into his hand - he stopped when he saw the threatening look on the swordsman's face.

"Thanks to your explosive temper, we've already been spotted," Kisame hissed. "We have to get the fuck out of here." The way Samehada was bristling, he knew that a considerable amount of chakra was approaching - probably a four-man squad of shinobi - and they were approaching _fast._ "Shit. Hang on," he said, his voice lowered to a whisper.

Samehada came to him before he had even said a word - the sword knew better than he that danger was nearby. Kisame grabbed the blonde's hand and was met with a silent glare.

"Now's not the time to act like a _bitch_," the swordsman growled. He positioned Deidara's hand over his then grabbed Samehada's hilt. "And I swear - not a word of this to _anyone._" Samehada began to heal him, obeying his will, and the chakra it emitted seeped from his hand to Deidara's. It was an ability he only shared with Itachi, since the Mangekyo always took so much out of him. He had always kept it a strict secret - he wasn't a medic ninja, for crying out loud.

"Let's just kill them now, hmm?" Deidara burst. Suddenly he was on his feet and a considerable distance away, a technique that had always annoyed Kisame regarding long-range fighters. "Come on... I've already killed fourty-seven people today... let's up the ante! Hmmmm?"

"_Shut the fuck up,_" Kisame hissed, shocked at how quickly the blonde had recovered his meager amount of chakra. "Do you want to fight Pain when we get back to the hideout? Because he'll know about this... and he'll be fucking _pissed._" He sighed, exasperated. "The Akatsuki have high goals... but right now, we're no more than criminals listed in every jonin's bingo book. We can't just go around slaughtering shinobi, stirring up shit..."

Deidara's hand was already in his clay. "Fine," he sneered. "Don't talk to me like I'm stupid." Five seconds later his hand spat out a lump of clay which he artfully produced into some sort of prehistoric bird. "Ha, let's go then," he said, grinning wildly.

Kisame looked over his shoulder and to his dismay he could see the vague outlines of four shinobi approaching. "Can't you make two of those things?" he grated.

"Since you don't want to fight, I don't have time to give you flying lessons," Deidara chirped, clearly gloating at the fact that he had the upper hand. "Of course, you could always just walk. I'm sure you'd lose them eventually... maybe..."

"Didn't I tell you to shut the fuck up?" Kisame growled. "I swear, I should just cut your fuckin' tongue out."

"Ugh... a real way with words," Deidara sighed. "Now come on!"

With a few quick motions Kisame crudely bound Samehada to his back and jumped onto the bird behind Deidara. Now the shinobi were so close he could see their headbands - they were from Konahagakure. Scowling, he dodged a kunai with a casual tilt of his head.

"Hold onto me, idiot. You'll fall off," Deidara hissed.

"Damn. This is embarrassing," Kisame grumbled, awkwardly grabbing the blonde's hips. And then they were in motion, gaining elevation at a surprising rate. One of the shinobi lamely shouted 'get back here' and the swordsman barely had time to flip him off before they pierced through the canopy.

X X X

"So... I'm not half what?"

Deidara sighed and shot the swordsman another glare. They were insanely high up - the forest below them was little more than a shaggy green carpet, and the rivers that wound through the land looked like snaking blue veins.

"Come on... what were you gonna say before I cut you off back there?" Kisame pried. "You know I won't stop bugging you until you tell me." His hand was still gripping the blonde's hip even though the ride was smooth... he was delighted that Deidara didn't seem to mind.

"Ugh, screw you, Kisame..." The younger man was nervously fidgeting with his wrecked scope, scraping off the dried mud with his fingernails.

"Come on... just say it..."

"Gimme the sake," Deidara growled. He snatched the bottle from Kisame and took a slam, then wiped his mouth with the back of his mud-streaked hand. The mud had dried to a light ash-grey and it looked as though all the color had seeped out of his skin. "Err... I was gonna say... uh..."

"Come _on!"_

"You're not half-bad yourself, Kisame," Deidara finally sighed, exasperated. "There. You happy?"

Kisame laughed outloud, grinning crookedly. "I am, actually," he said. "But you must have gotten hit in the head pretty hard when you fell... I'm sure you'll snap out of it and remember I'm fuckin' ugly."

Deidara snorted and ran a hand through his damp hair, stealing another glance back at the swordsman. "Heh... funny story, actually..." he said.

"There's a story to this?" Kisame asked, unable to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face. "I'm listening."

All the mud in the world couldn't hide the blush on Deidara's cheeks. "Before I went rogue, I was in Iwagakure's explosion corps," he said. "So needless to say, I had a bingo book... and you were in it, ha." He shrugged awkwardly. "I had a weird thing for you, what can I say? The infamous tail-less biju... you're quite notorious, you know? Your bio said you were highly dangerous... and I've always been drawn to badasses. Never thought I'd actually run into you though."

"Well, the world gets a lot smaller once you go rogue," said Kisame. "We found you in no time with a bingo book."

"Gah, I figured. Screw that old geezer," Deidara mumbled. "Can't mind his own business..."

"Who?"

"Oh. The Tsuchikage. Meddling old fart, putting me on everyone's hitlist. Couldn't just let me go rogue in peace, could he? I'm gonna blow that old bastard to bits some day, just you wait."

Kisame laughed, baring teeth. "My, your temper," he mused. He looked over his shoulder at the sun, which was sinking toward the curved horizon. The sky had deepened to a calm shade of ocean blue and their shadows had become long, harsh lines on the white clay of the bird. Nearly an hour had passed since their escape from the Konaha ninja. "It's almost sunset," he said. "We should descend soon..."

"Yah," Deidara murmured. "I'm looking for a decent place to land..."

"Do you need the sake to do that?" Kisame asked, smirking. He slid his hand around to the blonde's waist and pulled him closer, then reached for the bottle. Deidara's breath hitched - his skin felt hot under the swordsman's fingertips - and he took one last quick drink before handing it over, blushing fiercely.

"Damnit Kisame," he breathed. "You're gonna distract me... I'm already kinda buzzed..."

"Heheh... sorry," Kisame said. "Can't help it." His hand found the waistline of Deidara's pants; he untucked the blonde's mesh undershirt and slipped his hand under the fabric, grazing his fingertips over the taut skin of his stomach. Deidara murmured a curse and leaned back against the swordsman slightly, breathing quickly.

"Fuck," the blonde panted. "You should really stop..."

"That's the least convincing thing I've ever heard," Kisame growled, nipping the younger man's earlobe. He took a drink of sake then returned his attention to Deidara's ear, nipping it with his sharp teeth until the blonde moaned breathlessly and squirmed in his grasp. "In fact, you telling me to stop is just turning me on more," he whispered.

"No... you seriously gotta stop," Deidara heaved. "Seriously, Kisame!"

The swordsman's ears popped. Startled, he looked down and found the forest hurtling toward him, rapidly gaining detail until he could see the leaves on the trees. Scowling, Deidara righted the bird so quickly the it forced the air out of Kisame's lungs, leaving him gasping breathlessly like a beached fish.

"Damnit," the blonde huffed, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes. "What did I tell you?"

"Oh, come on," Kisame panted, embarrassed. "It's not my fault you were _swooning_."

"Yeah it is," Deidara curtly replied. "Well, this is close to where I was gonna land anyway..." They haphazardly descended through a gap in the forest canopy, twigs snapping and whipping around them. A sizeable branch caught Kisame in the face; he winced, annoyed, and dismounted the bird before it had even touched down. Not to his surprise, his dick was hard, making a very obvious tent out of his pants. Cursing, he squeezed it roughly, trying to make it go down. He looked over at Deidara, who had just dismounted, and saw that the blonde was blushing and doing the same thing. He laughed outloud, grinning crookedly.

"Screw you, Kisame," Deidara huffed, visibly flustered. "Taking advantage of me..." He made the bird disappear in a puff of smoke with a quick handsign.

"Ha, seriously?" Kisame sneered. "Don't act so innocent. You probably jerked it to my picture in your bingo book."

"I didn't need to jerk off in Iwagakure," the blonde replied with a smirk. "I was up to my balls in, uh... both genders."

Kisame blinked. The image of Deidara screwing a woman just wouldn't form correctly in his head. Maybe a woman with a strap-on...

"Okay, fine," Deidara admitted. "It was mostly men. Kurotsuchi sucked my dick once but I couldn't stay hard. Um... it was _really_ weird." He shrugged. "Anyway... the river's this way," he said, giving his dick one last frustrated shove before heading off toward the east.

Kisame sighed and followed the blonde, briefly wondering who Kurotsuchi was before deciding that he didn't care. He looked around, finally taking note of his surroundings, and realized by the terrain that they had achieved over half a day's travel in just an hour. He was the one who had insisted they walk the entire journey thus far and he felt more than a little stupid for being such a kurmudgen. If they had flown, they'd already be back at the hideout by now. _Well, not like I regret it,_ he told himself. _Because this situation is fuckin' awesome._ Alone in the middle of nowhere with a flustered, horny Deidara, the bottle of sake still about half-full, he was fairly confident that the evening was about to get even more interesting.

They walked in silence for once but Kisame didn't mind. The sun was beginning to set, tinting everything a warm color, and the long, slanted rays that slipped through the canopy cast a shrine-like feel to the ancient forest. This area was untouched by man, save a few passing shinobi such as themselves, and there was a certain reverence to it. Kisame wasn't religious, but places like this made him feel... at peace. Perhaps that was why Deidara wasn't his usual yappy self - or maybe it was just because he was irritated and covered in mud. _Probably the latter, _he told himself. The blonde's only religious moments were likely when he was setting off bombs, destroying pretty spots like this.

"Here we are," Deidara finally said. Low and behold, they were at a river - a fairly large one at that. Kisame wasn't surprised... after all, he had been hearing the sound of rushing water for at least the past five minutes. But it was a beautiful spot. The ground was thick with springy moss that left imprints of their footsteps behind them, and there was an abundance of ferns and wildflowers, lush from the nearby water supply. Rapids upstream left a spray of mist over the water that caught the lengthening rays of light, suspending the warm colors in the air. "Pretty," the blonde murmured.

"Yah," said Kisame. He unshouldered Samehada and rested it against a boulder, then kneaded his shoulder. The poor sword didn't look happy about being muddy anymore - the shit had caked all over its spines, practically immobilizing it. "I need to give this thing a bath," he mumbled, more to himself than anything. He looked over to find Deidara already peeling off both his shirts, nearly ripping the wet fabric in his haste. He'd never seen the blonde shirtless before - until now, the younger man had always traveled a distance downstream to bathe, paranoid for what Kisame supposed was a good reason.

"Hey, stop ogling me," Deidara snapped, flinging his wet shirts onto a nearby boulder.

"Hell no," Kisame bluntly replied, grinning. He took a sip of sake and sat back on the boulder next to Samehada, doing his best to ogle as blatantly as possible. "I've been a gentleman this entire mission... I think I've earned this, haven't I?"

Deidara laughed genuinely. "A gentleman? _Really_?" he chuckled. "Honestly, Kisame... there's nothing gentle about you." He was still laughing when he unbuckled his belt and flung it onto the same boulder as his shirts, not seeming to give a shit that two pouches of highly explosive clay were attached. Without the belt, his baggy pants sunk lower on his hips, exposing the enticing curves where the small of his back met his ass.

"Nice," Kisame murmured, fighting a sudden impulse to start masturbating. "Now show me the rest."

Deidara's laughter finally subsided. "You're really making this hard for me, you know that?" he sighed, blushing fiercely. "If you're gonna be like this, at least give me the sake."

Kisame held out the bottle, smirking devilishly. "Come over here and get it, then," he sneered.

"You're a dick," the blonde muttered. But apparently his need to bury his shame in booze overrode his pride, because he only paused for a few seconds before approaching the swordsman, his light footsteps disappearing behind him in the moss. The expression on Kisame's face was nothing less than sinister as he drank in the perfection of the tight little body before him. _Now this is art,_ he mused, grinning.

"Ugh, come on," Deidara huffed, holding up his pants with one hand. "Can't you just hand me the bottle like a normal person?"

"Right... like any men act normal around you," Kisame muttered. He let the blonde snatch the bottle out of his hand and copped a feel when he turned around, grabbing a firm little handfull of ass. Deidara shot him a glare behind his shoulder, the bottle already raised to his lips, then skulked over to the river and sat down at the edge.

"I swear, Kisame..." Deidara mumbled. He took another pull of sake then jammed the bottle into the moss. "I don't think all the sake in the world could make me comfortable around you. Your eyes alone are intimidating."

Kisame laughed. "My eyes?" he mused. "Itachi's the one with the intimidating eyes. Mine just look weird." Before he could stop himself, his thoughts automatically gravitated to Itachi's Tsukiyomi. A shudder ran through him and when he looked down at his arms he noticed that, predictably, just the thought of it had raised gooseflesh. _Ugh..._ he thought. _Even now..._

He heard a splash. Startled, he broke from his thoughts to find Deidara already in the water. The blonde grinned crookedly, submerged to his chin. "You missed it," he sneered. On the river's edge lay his headband, hairpiece, and the rest of his muddy clothes, neatly folded.

Kisame sighed, rubbing his arms. "You're a bitch," he stated. Deidara's grin merely widened before he disappeared under the water's surface, leaving a little ripple and a lick of blonde hair. The swordsman cursed under his breath and shuddered again. _ Even now that cursed illusion haunts me, _he thought, biting his lip almost hard enough to puncture the skin. _Was this really your intent, Itachi? _

When the feeling had finally passed he sullenly looked over at Samehada, who was still patiently waiting to be cleaned. "Go for a swim," he told it irritably. The sword flexed its spines uncomfortably, flaking dried mud. "Can't even move, can you?" he muttered. Samehada's response was another shiver and a pathetic growl. Sighing, he hoisted the weapon over his shoulder and walked to the river's edge, then eased it into the water. The mud quickly released its hold and Samehada squirmed fitfully until he released its hilt. And then it was gone, probably to hunt around for fish - it liked to pretend it was a shark, sensing their measly fish chakras and snapping the poor things up in its teeth, only to spit out their mangled remains because it had no digestive tract. Abomination of nature that it was, Samehada was a happy freak, content with subsisting on chakra, shredding its opponents in battle, and torturing its distant relatives in the water. Sometimes the swordsman wished he could be so simple-minded... too dumb to be bothered by the complex web of horrors that composed the fabric of the shinobi world.

He sighed yet again and began to get undressed, trying to clear his mind. He wasn't covered in mud like Deidara and Samehada had been, but his ash-ridden water prison hadn't really been a substitute for a bath. He unceremoniously stripped off his shoes and pants, tossing them into a pile on the boulder. Once he was naked, he tried to pop the small of his back. The fight earlier had... twisted it... or something. A flash of yellow caught the corner of his eye - he looked over to find Deidara had reemerged from the water. The blonde was blushing and gawking at his cock; when he realized he'd been caught, he sunk down until only the top of his head and a pair of wide blue eyes were visible.

"What's the matter?" Kisame sneered. "Like this is the first time you've seen another guy's dick." Deidara's eyes narrowed slightly. "Whatever," the swordsman muttered. He removed his headband and ran his fingers through his hair, then noticed that the blonde's gaze had shifted to his ears. "Now what?" he sighed.

Deidara revealed his face long enough to say, "I thought your ears would be... I dunno... pointy or something..." before he sunk back down.

Kisame snorted. "Idiot, I'm a human," he chuckled. "Not some mythological beast." Deidara's eyes gleamed - he was laughing - then he disappeared elusively under the water again. The swordsman smirked, his mood lifting. If anyone was mythological, it was Deidara. He was like some sort of... gay water nymph. Laughing outloud at the thought, he walked over to the sake and took a drink, then lodged it firmly back into the moss before getting in the water. The river was deep - even near the edge, it rose to his waist - and it was slightly cooler than the balmy air. He slipped under the surface and swam toward the middle, eyes open, but it was getting too dark to see much of anything. A few fish scurried away from him as he swam, little more than shadows in the dim water. Seconds later, Samehada's familiar, spiny shape appeared out of the darkness. The sword did a few excited circles around him - mildly annoyed, he surfaced. The water was a lot deeper here... standing, only his head was above the surface. Samehada's grinning maw poked out of the water next to him and in its jagged teeth wriggled a miserable, bleeding trout. It circled him again, showing off its catch. "That's great," Kisame muttered, giving it a half-hearted pat. "Now go play downstream," he said firmly. Elated, the weapon circled him one more time before disappearing back under the surface. _What a waste, _he thought. He'd tried several times to teach Samehada to catch fish without gnawing them to shreds, but he'd obviously never had any luck. _Can't have everything, _he told himself.

"What the fuck, Kisame?" Deidara shouted. The swordsman turned to find the blonde treading water a few yards away, eyes wide. "You let loose that... _thing _in here? It's gonna snap me up like a fish!"

"Calm down," Kisame mumbled. "It doesn't attack people unless I tell it to."

"Bullshit," Deidara snapped, nervously trying to peer through the water's surface. "It's had the taste of my blood!"

"Deidara... that doesn't even deserve a response," Kisame growled. "In fact... that's the stupidest thing anyone's ever said to me. _Ever_."

"Oh really?" the blonde said dryly. "You've never talked to yourself?"

"Stupid. You're fucking stupid, Deidara."

"Screw you." Deidara took a mouthful of water and spit it at the swordsman. Kisame dodged it easily, grinning.

"You know, it's not Samehada you should be worrying about," the swordsman sneered. "It's me." He caught a glimpse of the blush on the blonde's cheeks before menacingly slipping under the water's surface. The sun had finally sunk below the horizon, making the water even more difficult to see through, but he could just make out Deidara's slim outline as he tried to swim away. _Too slow,_ he mused. He covered the distance between them in a split second, then grabbed the blonde by the ankle and swiftly pulled him under. Bubbles escaped Deidara's mouth as he cursed - he put up a bit of a struggle but stopped when Kisame roughly pinned him by the waist, pressing them together chest to chest. For a split second time seemed to stop... both men were frozen, suspended in the water, Deidara's long hair stirring wildly around him in the current. The younger man's heart was pounding and his skin was incredibly warm - right then he felt like some scared little animal caught in a predator's grasp. The swordsman tentatively ran his fingers through the blonde's long hair, marveling at how it felt like silk in the water, then grabbed a fistful of it and covered Deidara's mouth with his own.

A surge like a shock coursed through him and he felt the younger man shiver in his grasp. Deidara's mouth was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted, warm and slick, his lips firmer and vastly more appealing than a woman's. And the blonde was a surprisingly good kisser - timid at first but slowly submitting, letting Kisame's tongue twist around his own. The swordsman felt the blonde's hands shyly touch his shoulders then slide down his back, nails dragging lightly. The contact ran another thrill down his spine... he untangled his fingers from Deidara's hair so he could graze his fingertips over the blonde's jawline, relishing in how warm the skin was to the touch, even underwater. Deidara's nails started digging into his back, so hard it was beginning to hurt. _He's running out of air already? _he marveled, but he quickly found a foothold and surfaced, reluctantly breaking the kiss. Deidara gasped breathlessly, blushing fiercely, his eyes clamped shut as if he was still underwater.

"Heh... you alright?" Kisame asked, brushing the blonde's wet hair out of his face. Deidara opened his eyes, still breathing quickly, and gazed hotly at the swordsman for a moment before kissing him again, grasping his shoulders as he compulsively crushed their mouths together. The swordsman growled, surprised that the blonde wasn't cursing at him or struggling to get away. With their heads above water, there was something more real to the kiss this time - it had a weight and heat to it, whereas underwater it could have been a dream. Kisame's hand wandered down to Deidara's chest, feeling the strange scar there that he had thought was a tattoo, before sinking down further to the smooth curve of his ass. The blonde moaned into the swordsman's mouth and wrapped his legs around his waist so tight it hurt. Something hard was pressed against his stomach and it took him a second to realize it was Deidara's cock. His own cock was painfully erect, rubbing up against the blonde's ass in the water.

He broke the kiss, dizzy for a second. Deidara was flushed, his eyes glinting feverishly in the fading light. They were grinding against eachother now, their motions barely discernable in the water's current, and the shy want on the blonde's face was something Kisame knew he'd never forget for the rest of his life. "You really want me, don't you?" he asked quietly, unable to shake his disbelief.

"Is there still any question?" Deidara gasped, his fingers running feverishly along the gill-like marks on Kisame's shoulders. "I already told you... how long I've wanted this..."

"It's just hard to believe," Kisame growled, his hand still groping the blonde's perfect ass. "You should know just from your bingo book that I'm a terrible human being..."

Deidara slipped a hand underwater, lightly running his fingertips over Kisame's chest. The swordsman bit his lip to supress a moan... there was just something so deliciously naive about Deidara's touch, as if he was touching some sort of exotic surface previously undiscovered by mankind.

"But that's what turns me on," the blonde murmured breathlessly. "I've always dreamed of being taken by someone as rutheless as you..."

Kisame grinned. "That's a pretty fucked up dream," he said. He had a sudden impulse to just force his cock into Deidara's little ass right then and there - show the brat how ruthless he could really be - but he supressed the urge and waded to the shore instead, the blonde clamped around his torso like a vice. This opportunity was simply too incredulously rare to rush through. For all he knew, Deidara could be suffering from a concussion, and would snap out of it days later with nightmarrish flashbacks of being raped by a shark. When he reached the shore, he pried the blonde's legs off his waist and lifted him up onto the bank. It was surprisingly easy... the younger man was lighter than Samehada.

"What're you doing?" Deidara panted, eyes heavy lidded.

"Heh... what do you want me to do?" asked Kisame, still waist deep in the river. The blonde just bit his lip, words escaping him. The swordsman smirked and lightly bit Deidara's thigh, liking the way the smooth flesh felt in his teeth. His ears were met with a breathless moan and when he looked up Deidara's hand was touching his cock, fingers running tentatively down the shaft. The blonde's dick was surprisingly big... he had somehow assumed that it would be short and slender, matching his build, but it was... maybe eight inches? _ Not as big as mine, but still... _he thought, mildly shocked that the fact was turning him on.

He climbed up onto the bank, easily pinning the younger man beneath him. The sake was next to them in the moss - he grabbed it and took a sip then put it to Deidara's lips - the blonde took a big slam as if his life depended on it. "You really that nervous?" he asked as he took away the bottle and put it back in the moss.

"Hell yah I am," Deidara huffed, glancing down to the swordsman's hard cock. "Your dick is _monstrous_..."

Kisame grinned. "You realize that's a compliment, right?" he growled. He grabbed the blonde's hand and guided it between his legs. Deidara groaned breathlessly as his hand touched the swordsman's cock and he froze for a second before shyly wrapping his fingers around the shaft. Kisame cursed under his breath, his face hot. "Stroke it," he snarled, gripping the blonde's wrist hard enough to hurt. The blush on Deidara's cheeks deepened as he slowly began to move his curled fingers up and down... his hesitant movements didn't match up to someone who had been 'balls deep' in debauchery, but the seeming innocence was only a turn-on. He leaned down and covered the blonde's mouth with his own, violently fucking the wet heat with his tongue, until the younger man was eliciting muffled sighs and squirming beneath him, jerking off the swordsman's cock with blind enthusiasm.

Kisame suddenly realized that if they kept going like this, he was going to cum uneventfully onto Deidara's stomach. He broke the kiss, nipping the blonde's lip, and pulled the younger man's hand off his dick.

"What're you doing?" Deidara panted, still squirming, his cock fucking the air.

"Stop asking me that," Kisame growled. "It should be obvious that I'm gonna fuck you." The blonde stopped squirming, his face paling as he contemplated the implications. Grinning, the swordsman menacingly ran his bared teeth down Deidara's jawline then bit down onto his neck, almost hard enough to puncture the skin. The blonde cried out and writhed in sudden panic beneath him - Kisame found himself in a brief wrestling match as he restrained the younger man's hands, pinning them above his head. By the time he had him subdued there was a coppery taste in his mouth... it was blood. He hadn't even bitten down hard... the brat had worsened the wound in the midst of his struggling.

"Let me go," Deidara panted, his hands clenching spasmodically in Kisame's grasp. The swordsman growled in response, tempted to bite deeper. His teeth were so sharp it would be like a knife through butter... and the taste of the blonde's blood in his mouth was irresistably erotic. Instead he shook his head a little, worrying the wound in his mouth like Samehada toying with its prey, then released his jaw and spat the mouthful of blood messily onto Deidara's chest.

"You're a hypocrite," he snarled, wiping the blood off his lips with his shoulder. "You knew what you were getting into... don't act like a fuckin' victim." Deidara's eyes were wide and his breath was coming in shallow gasps - he was on the verge of panic. Kisame sighed, frustrated and unbelievably horny, then shifted so that both the blonde's hands were pinned under just one of his. Deidara was certainly a formidable fighter but when it came to brute strength, there was no question that Kisame had the advantage. His grip might as well have been a steel chain around the blonde's wrists.

"Deidara... if you keep struggling, I will _shred _you," he stated quietly, lips curled into a snarl. "Do you understand?" Deidara's response was a furious glare - he looked as if he wanted to blow both of them to hell with one of his bombs. Kisame cursed, enraged, and backhanded the blonde in the jaw, much harder than he had earlier in the day - it left the younger man trembling and gasping raggedly, pain etched into the details of his face. "Do you understand?" he repeated. This time Deidara acknowledged him with a dizzy, weak nod, blood spilling out the side of his mouth.

"Good," he muttered, scowling. "Fuckin' idiot." He wet his finger with his mouth and put it between the blonde's legs, noticing on his way down that the brat's dick was hard as a rock. _This is turning him on,_ he marveled. He squeezed the shaft briefly, liking the way it throbbed in his hand, before sinking lower to his asshole. The spot was tiny, like a pinprick, and when he pressed his finger against it Deidara squirmed pathetically and cursed. Ignoring the blonde's reaction, he pressed harder until it slipped in.

"What the fuck, that's tight," he growled, barely hearing himself over the stream of curses Deidara was feverishly emitting. The blonde's little passage was hot and painfully constricting around his finger, threatening to cut off his circulation. He forced it in the rest of the way until he was knuckles deep and paused for a second, relishing in the feel of the tight heat, before withdrawing and repeating the thrust.

The profanity escaping Deidara's lips could have killed a pious man - Kisame was fairly certain that the blonde was using curses more... _creatively..._ than anyone had in the past.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" he sneered.

"_Fuck you, Kisame!_" Deidara howled deleriously, eyes wide and glazed over with panic.

"Calm down," Kisame muttered. "Dramatic bitch." He was finger-fucking the blonde now with a slow rhythm, trying to get the passage relaxed enough to accept another finger. Finally the tension eased to where his circulation returned - he felt an unfomfortable surge of prickles as the bloodflow surged back to normalcy. Biting his lip, he paused momentarily before inserting a second finger. When he looked up he saw that Deidara was staring at him wildly, so panicked it was nearly rendering him blind. It occured to him again that maybe the blonde had been lying about all his experience in the sack... the swordsman hadn't been with someone so insanely nervous since his teenage years, when he had taken a chick's virginity.

After a few minutes of scissoring his fingers, Kisame sighed and decided that it would have to do. Deidara's ass was still extremely tight - the bitch just wouldn't relax - and the swordsman had a feeling it wasn't going to change no matter what he did. He pulled out his fingers, eliciting a slurred curse from the blonde, and spit on the head of his dick before guiding it to the spot. He rubbed the tip against it, cursing softly... it was as if his fingers had never been in there. "Deidara, you idiot," he sighed. "Try to relax." The blonde merely shot him another crazed glare, his face pale.

"Feh," he snorted. "Whatever, then." He pushed against the hole and was met with a ridiculous amount of resistance before the head finally slipped in. He growled, a shiver running down his spine, and in the twilight he could just make out Deidara's ass stretched impossibly around his girth. He pushed in a little further, relishing in the way it looked. And it was painful - he could see the veins on his shaft as his cock squeezed its way in. The swordsman had never fucked anyone so tight, not even that virgin, and he wondered briefly if his cock was going to hurt the next day.

"For crying out loud, relax," he panted, wincing as he pushed. It was as if Deidara was trying to make it as painful as possible for both of them. When he looked down again he noticed a trickle of blood - the bitch was resisting so hard he was _bleeding_. He cursed, exasperated. This was ludicrous. The blonde's eyes were clamped shut in pain and Kisame had an idea. Not a very nice one, but...

"Hey Deidara," he growled. Just as the blonde opened his eyes he slapped him in the face, so hard it stung his palm. But in that moment of dumb shock, Deidara relaxed long enough for Kisame to force his cock in the rest of the way. As the poor blonde realized what had just happened, he looked so comically miserable that a snort of laughter escaped the swordsman's lips. "Sorry," he chuckled. "I told you to relax, didn't I?"

Deidara was rendered mute at this point - the combination of sake and shock was making him too stupid to form words. Kisame felt an unwanted pang of empathy but it disappeared when he noticed that the blonde's cock was still miraculously hard. Apparently, being brutally sodomized by a sharky bastard with a ten-inch cock was one of the brat's turn-ons.

After a moment or two of letting the blonde get used to the feel of his cock, Kisame began to thrust, just barely sliding it in and out. The pain finally eased - for both of them, he assumed - and he began to thrust a bit harder, biting his lip to keep himself in control. No matter what he did, he knew he wasn't going to last very long... every detail of the situation was simply too hot. He thought briefly back on how long he'd been waiting to do this, supressing a groan. It was hard to believe that any of it was even real.

Self control began to escape him and he found himself fucking the blonde harder and harder until he was slamming in his cock to the base with every thrust. Deidara was moaning deleriously, bordering on blacking out, his cock so hard it looked painful. Growling, Kisame covered it with his hand and started to jerk it off, matching the motions with his thrusts. The blonde's moans became more frenzied and soon he was rocking his hips, writhing deliciously. Barely a minute had passed when a loud curse met Kisame's ears and there was something slippery on his hand - Deidara had orgasmed already. Spurred on by the fact, the swordsman thrust in harder, stabbing the tight passage with his cock until he came, stars sliding over his vision as he spilled his seed deep in the blonde's ass. His ears were ringing and his vision was blurred... for a moment he was incapacitated as the throes of orgasm wracked his senses. He was positive that he'd never came so hard in his life. Eventually he could move again - he slowly slid his softening dick out of the blonde's ass, knowing it was going to hurt the brat no matter what. When the whole length was finally out, Deidara squirmed lethargically and groaned a slurred curse, his adrenaline spent.

"Sorry," Kisame lied. He wasn't sorry at all. Either way, Deidara didn't respond and when the swordsman looked more closely, he realized that the blonde was asleep. He grinned, laughing inwardly. What a dramatic lay. He grabbed the sake and slammed what little was left, then slipped back into the river, cleaning himself off. Samehada approached him cautiously, its spines cutting through the water's surface. He gave it a pat, glad that the sword knew the difference between fighting and fucking. It always had given him a wide berth during sex, which he assumed had something to do with its previous owner - his sensei had been a notorious hedonist.

"Come on," he told it. The sword followed him to the bank, wriggling a bit until he helped it up the rest of the way. He hoisted it over his shoulder then laid it down gently on the moss, glancing over at the blonde's naked, sprawled form. They had left their Akatsuki robes back where they had fought earlier, so there wasn't much to cover the brat up with. Finally, he laid the blonde's muddy shirts over his exposed midsection, then sat himself down at the base of a boulder. The orgasm had left him drained - he fell asleep within minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

It took Deidara a long time to accept the fact that he was waking up. It was light out and the sun was hurting his eyes... no matter how hard he tried to shield his face, the rays kept slipping through, burning his corneas. It was inevitably daytime and the sun couldn't care less about his hangover. Finally, he opened his eyes just a little, squinting blurrily, and a raw headache immediately seared through his temples. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so shitty.

Cursing, he rose to a sitting position, then cradled his head in his hands. His mouth was dry, his eyes felt puffy and bloodshot, and it was hurting his brain even trying to remember how the fuck he had done this to himself.

"Morning, brat." Deidara slowly turned his throbbing head to find Kisame sitting on a boulder, grinning crookedly as he cleaned Samehada's spines with a rag. "How's your ass?" the swordsman sneered.

"Huh?" he murmured. And then it all came back to him at once, starting with him uncorking the sake and ending with Kisame's huge cock crammed in his ass. He looked down at himself and sure enough, he was naked and splattered with blood. His body looked like a crimescene. Too hungover to even scowl, he just looked blandly back over at the swordsman, whose sharky grin was practically splitting his face in two. The bastard didn't look hungover at all - in fact, he looked smugger than Deidara had ever seen him. Even the damned sword looked smug, laying docilly over its master's lap, wagging its tail of a hilt a few times as if to say 'morning, bitch' in its own, silent way.

He tried to think of something to say but only managed to sigh. He needed water before talking shit was even an option. Eyes squinting in pain, he crawled over to a dip in the bank and hung his head over the edge, dunking his face unceremoniously into the river to drink. Luckily the water here wasn't stagnant... if it had tasted bad at all he most certainly would have thrown up. Once his thirst was sated, he shakily raised himself back up and flopped back onto the moss, halfheartedly covering his dick with one hand. _Kisame's already seen me naked,_ he passively told himself. He looked back over at the swordsman, who had momentarily returned his attentions to Samehada's spines, and went through the night's events again in his head. At first, everything had gone fine - romantic, even. He recalled that Kisame had been an incredibly good kisser. But then he had simply _panicked... _and the rest was just a violent, horny blur, laced with fear and gut-wrenching pain. He vaguely remembered cumming, and from what he could recall, he'd never came so hard in his life. _What the fuck is wrong with me?_ he wondered. The question hurt his head, even though he already knew the answer. Because as much as it pained him to admit it, he had _wanted _it to be violent. Wanting or expecting anything less from a man like Kisame was just... contradictory.

"You gonna wash off?" Deidara's attention snapped back to the swordman, who was looking at him again and smirking. "Because," Kisame continued, "we need to get going... it's almost noon."

"Ugh, seriously?" the blonde groaned. No wonder the sun had been bugging him. "Why didn't you just wake me up?"

Kisame shrugged, nitpicking at one of Samehada's spines. "I tried earlier," he said, "but you didn't seem too happy about it. So finally I just got bored and threw pebbles at you until you came to."

"You did?" Deidara mumbled. He looked over at the the indent in the moss where he had been sleeping, searching for evidence, and sure enough there were a few stones scattered about. Apparently the swordsman's definition of the word 'pebble' differed from his own, because the stones all appeared large enough to leave sizeable bruises if thrown with enough meaning. Then again, he had no memory of it whatsoever. He shot Kisame a glare but the swordsman's attentions had returned yet again to Samehada, leaving the blonde feeling petty and irritable.

"Where are my clothes?" he snapped accusingly. Kisame had probably hid them or shredded them to bits...

"Right there," Kisame muttered, cutting off his thoughts. Without looking up, the swordsman pointed at a boulder a few yards upstream. "It was getting late so I washed them," he added apathetically. Lo and behold, the blonde's clothes were drying on the boulder's face.

"Damnit," Deidara growled under his breath. Kisame seemed to know exactly how to get under his skin... everything the swordsman was doing was making him feel even more wretched. "Well... where's my clay?" he huffed. The only response he got was another half-hearted shrug in the same direction. The blonde cursed, painfully embarrassed, when he noticed that the pouches were sitting at the base of the boulder.

"Oh, man..." he sighed, wincing and rubbing his temples. "Kisame, you seriously gotta leave me alone for a minute." Just restraining his anger was worsening his headache. He glanced over to find the swordsman obediently rising to his feet, a smirk threatening to play across his lips. "Go away," the blonde vehemently hissed. Kisame merely chuckled, hoisting Samehada easily over his shoulder, and Deidara couldn't help but notice how the man's muscles flexed lithely as he moved.

"I'll be waiting for you upstream," the swordsman stated meekly. But as he turned around, he grinned slyly and ran his tongue over his sharp teeth. Before Deidara could spit out a response, the bastard had already disappeared into the thick foliage, his slate blue skin blending elusively with the shadows.

The blonde sighed again, unsure of whether he was turned on, pissed off or both. Kisame was definitely the most lethally attractive man he'd ever laid his eyes on... but he was such a _prick_. He cursed under his breath, forcing himself to remember that everyone pissed him off when he was hungover. Well... the bastard _had _pinned him down, backhanded him, and fucked his brains out mere hours earlier... ...

When he finally cleared his muddled mind, he took his time bathing in the river. He went over his various aches and pains one by one, as if cataloguing them. Here was the bite mark on his neck, scabbed over with blood.. there was a half-healed puncture from Samehada's spines... His jaw hurt the worst - it throbbed dully with his migraine and felt swollen to the touch - but his ass was a close second. Maybe if he had just relaxed like Kisame had kept telling him to do it wouldn't be hurting as bad... but he had a feeling that there simply was no way to take a ten-inch cock somewhere it wasn't intended to go without feeling the reprecussions. Plus, the swordsman hadn't even known...

Reluctantly, he climbed out of the river and got dressed, his muscles stiff in places they had never been stiff before as he wriggled uncomfortably into the damp clothing. His long hair seemed to have merged into one giant knot... he fussed with it for a good ten minutes before finally relenting and putting it up, deciding that neither the swordsman nor the animals in the forest were going to give a shit if there were a few tangles. When he was ready to go, he gave the area one last look, feeling oddly sentimental, before leaving it behind.

He found Kisame sitting on a fallen log about a quarter mile upstream, picking his nails and chewing on what looked like a wild leek. He had rewrapped Samehada and strapped it to his back, disguising it once again as just a blade. When he saw the blonde approach he lethargically rose to his feet, drowsy with boredom.

"Damn... what the hell took you so long?" he muttered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Deidara merely shrugged, sure the swordsman didn't actually care what the reason was. He licked his finger and tested the wind... it was blowing in their favor. "Let's fly back," he stated. "If the wind stays like this, it'll only be about a half-day's journey."

Kisame eyed the blonde passively. "You sure you have enough chakra?" he asked.

Deidara shrugged again, mildly irritated. "I'm not walking," he said firmly. He narrowed his eyes as if to say, _don't you dare ask me why_. Just walking this quarter mile had hurt...

A grin slid over Kisame's lips. "Fine," he said. He spit the leek out of his mouth then looked up at the sky, contemplating. Deidara found himself staring dumbly at the man's sharp profile as his hand bit into his clay, wondering briefly if anyone else found Kisame as attractive as he did. His obsession with the swordsman's picture in his bingo book had gotten him little more than weird stares back in Iwagakure. No one had _understood_... but the blonde had a feeling that most of the confusion revolved around the fact that his obsession was for a man.

Kisame finally looked down from the sky, his gaze sliding over the blonde. "You hungry?" he asked. "There's a teahouse a few miles east of here, if I'm correct."

Deidara blinked, confused. Since he had joined the Akatsuki, he hadn't even been inside a dining establishment. Sasori didn't eat, so the blonde had been putting up with food pills and his own sub-par cooking for what felt like ages.

"Come on," the swordsman prodded. "I feel... a _little _bad about last night. Let me buy you lunch." He glanced down at his own stomach, seemingly unsatisfied with his washboard abs. "Plus, I'm starving," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

Deidara found himself blushing as he molded the clay in his hand into two birds. "Um," he stammered, flinging them onto the ground and expanding them with a handsign. "Are you asking me out on a date or something?"

Kisame laughed genuinely. "No, I'm hungry, that's all," he chuckled. "But if you want to call it a date, I guess I wouldn't be opposed." He looked at the birds and narrowed his eyes. "And... you were totally screwing with me about the 'flying lessons' yesterday, weren't you?"

Deidara grinned crookedly. "Let's go," he said, avoiding the obvious answer. "I'm... _insanely _hungry."

X X X

The teahouse was little more than a shack, nestled in the middle of nowhere. But apparently it was one of the few places that served Akatsuki - the middle-aged couple that ran the place were too out of the loop to be aware of the organization. They didn't even seem to mind that Kisame strolled in without a shirt on. Then again, who would want to ask a towering, sharky blue guy with a giant sword to leave? There were a few other people eating - downtrodden farmers by their appearance - and absolutely no one dared to look either shinobi in the eye.

Deidara was starving - he inhaled two bowls of the house special, which was rice, vegetables, and some kind of fish, then drank a sizeable amount of both tea and sake before he was sated. Kisame watched him in awe, eating with an incongruously dainty reserve. When they were both done, there were way more bowls on Deidara's side of the table.

"Well, I feel better," the blonde said, grinning. He slapped his hand loudly on the table as he rose, drawing the attention of every scared diner in the room. "Now pay up, my man," he sneered. Kisame snorted and pulled out a wad of cash which he barely flipped through before tossing it on the table. When they left, the owners just bowed their heads, too timid to speak.

X X X

"Wow, Deidara," Kisame muttered. "You are _so _romantic." They had agreed to walk for a bit, mostly because the food and sake had given Deidara an insane amount of energy - his hangover had vanished and he was having a hard time restraining himself from running circles around the swordsman. Even his ass had stopped hurting, which was a relief... he'd been afraid Kisame had ripped something internally.

"Hey, I told you I was starving, hmm?" he chirped. "And that sake really did the trick. Nothing kills a hangover like more booze, heheh."

Kisame rolled his eyes. "Yah, until it comes back ten-fold," he said dryly. "It's a never-ending cycle and you'll wind up being a lush."

Deidara snorted. "You seem to have forgotten my partner's Sasori," he said. "I probably won't see a single drop until I get another mission with you." He paused, soured by the thought. "You know, you're acting rather bitter, Kisame," he sulked. "Maybe you should have had some sake, too."

The swordsman mumbled a curse under his breath, his gait rigid. "We'll be back at the hideout by nightfall," he muttered, "and I don't drink around Itachi. At all."

"Why not?" Deidara asked, automatically riled by the thought of Itachi. He still hadn't gotten over their fight that had forced him into joining the Akatsuki, and supposed that he never would.

"I just don't," Kisame growled, anger seething in his voice. "Can we drop this?"

Deidara thought about it for a second. "No," he finally stated. "Come on, tell me." He gave the swordsman's arm a little shove and was shocked to find goosebumps raised up on the blue skin. _What the hell?_ he wondered, deeply disturbed by the idea that something could give the infamous tail-less biju a chill.

Kisame shot the blonde a black glare, his eyes narrowed, and Deidara suddenly realized he might have pushed the swordsman too far. But instead of lashing out, the taller man merely cursed under his breath again before looking away. "Look," he muttered. "I've never told anyone about this. So if I tell you, you have to promise to keep your mouth shut." He looked back at the blonde and in his glare was true intent to kill. "Do you understand?" he growled.

"Yeah," Deidara said. "I promise I won't tell a soul." It was obvious in Kisame's murderous eyes what would happen if he ever broke the promise.

"Alright," the swordsman relented, looking away again. Deidara sighed shakily, realizing that he had been afraid. It occured to him just then that maybe Kisame had been going easy on him during their fight yesterday.

"So Deidara," the swordsman said, his face now expressionless as he walked. "Has anyone told you about the Uchiha clan's Tsukiyomi?" Deidara just shook his head. "Well then," Kisame continued, "this story will explain it... because years back, I experienced it firsthand..."

X X X

When Kisame and Itachi first became partners, the swordsman was a lot... _wilder_. He drank frequently, fucked a lot, and was generally just more of a dick. His experiences in Kirigakure had left him quite a wreck, so he often drowned out the trauma with earthly pleasures. To say he was a hedonist would be an exaggeration, but he didn't skimp on partying when the opportunity arose. Itachi tolerated the behavior with a detached yet thin patience, the same way a babysitter tolerated a whiny kid. The Uchiha would protest mildly every time they passed a bar but would end up letting Kisame drag him in, demurely sipping tea in a far corner while the swordsman slammed sake and debauched.

After a few months together, Itachi's passive attitude began to rile Kisame almost as much as his unwillingness to have even a sip of alcohol. They were partners, for crying out loud... it would be nice if just once the stoic bastard would indulge in some sake and show a little humanity. And he had a feeling that Itachi wished just as dearly that Kisame would quit with the partying, although it was nearly impossible to tell what the emotionless man was ever thinking. Either way, they were getting sick of eachother... that much was glaringly obvious.

The conflict finally rose to a head one night in the Land of Wind. They had been stuck with a monotonous, patience-thinning spying mission for the last week, sweating their asses off during the day and freezing at night in the harsh desert until they were both so irritated they could barely stand the sight of eachother. Kisame had been painfully sober the entire time and his thirst for booze had festered into a gnawing, maddening ache. He had also made it his own personal mission to annoy the shit out of Itachi, hoping the younger man would just snap so they could fight and get it over with. At the very least, he wanted the bastard to suffer as much as possible.

So when they passed by a small town with a bar on their way back to the hideout, the argument was inevitable.

"Itachi... you will have to physically stop me from going in here," he growled, glaring furiously at the younger man. They were outside the bar's door and Itachi had grabbed the sleeve of Kisame's jacket in one last attempt to get him to pass it up. The two glared at eachother for a moment before Itachi finally sighed and released his hold.

"Just one drink," his partner called after him as he stormed inside. Kisame scowled over his shoulder and stuck out his middle finger, letting Itachi glare at it as the door slammed between them.

Three hours and way more than one drink later, the tension between them was so high it was making other people uncomfortable. In fact, almost everyone had left, leaving only the two shinobi, a girl so shitfaced she was too busy grabbing at the swordsman's crotch to understand the danger, and an extremely nervous bartender.

"Can I, like... touch your sword?" the girl slurred, swaying on her barstool, her shirt exposing so much cleavage Kisame could almost see her nipples.

"Which one?" he sneered, grinning.

"I dunno..." Her attempts at flirtation were so drunken she was just repeating herself at this point. But Kisame tolerated it, partly because he wanted to get laid, mostly because Itachi was glaring at him a few feet away with his arms crossed. The younger man's seemingly limitless patience had _almost _reached its limit and the swordman was just waiting for him to snap.

"Are you really, like... blue?"

"Heh... you wanna see?"

"Kisame, let's _go_." Itachi's fingers were digging into his arms, betraying his anger. The situation was awkward, to say the least... on any other night, Kisame probably would have relented, but tonight he was just itching to push Itachi over the edge. Finally the younger man grabbed the swordsman's arm, his grip like a vice. "Let's go," he repeated.

Kisame grinned fiercely, baring his teeth. "Fine," he growled, rising from his barstool so fast the girl lost her balance and nearly crashed to the floor. "Let's fuckin' go." He grabbed Itachi by the collar of his coat and roughly shoved him against a wall, adrenaline pumping. "I'm sick of you harping on me," he hissed. "What are you, my wife?" For a minute they just glared at eachother, seething.

Determined to make an ass out of herself, the girl stumbled up to where they were facing off. "You guys gonna, like, _screw _eachother or what?" she slurred. "Let's have a threesome.."

The expression on Itachi's face flickered - just barely - and a split second later the girl was sprawled out on the floor, paralyzed by his sharingan. Kisame couldn't really care less about the bitch... she had been annoying him anyway... but what had that expression been on Itachi's face? Rage? Or even more bizarrely, jealousy?

He should have just left it alone. But... he didn't, of course.

"Yah, we gonna screw eachother or what?" he sneered. "Is that why you're such a bitch, Itachi? You want me all to yourself?" He grinned hotly and pressed his body up against the younger man's. "You look kinda like a chick," he growled. "I could probably fuck you."

Finally, Itachi's calm broke. His passive expression melted away to a furious snarl and a hot blush bloomed over his cheeks. "Get the _fuck _off me, Kisame," he hissed.

"Heheh... you're pretty when you're mad," Kisame teased, gloating that he'd finally broken the younger man's passive mask. "Come on, let's go _fuck_." And then he realized that Itachi's eyes were... _changing_.

Had he been sober, he probably would have avoided it. But he wasn't... he was shitfaced. The Tsukiyomi hit him before he could even react and he suddenly found himself trapped in a hellish dreamscape, hands and feet nailed to a cross. He realized quickly that this was no ordinary genjutsu. For one, he couldn't escape it - Samehada would have noticed by now and disrupted his chakra. And second, pain hurt a _lot _worse. It felt real.

Itachi appeared before him holding a katana. His partner's face was stoic again, and it remained that way throughout the entire illusion - stoic as he stabbed Kisame repeatedly in the gut, stoic as he burned him alive, and even stoic when he pulled out the swordsman's cock and cut it clean off.

And then he just left Kisame there, dickless and screaming bloody murder, for what seemed like a week. In that time, the swordsman felt his mind leave him until there was nothing left but pain... he became positive that somewhere along the line the genjutsu had ended and he had actually gone to hell. It was agony like nothing he ever could have imagined.

By the time the illusion had ended - mere seconds in reality - he was so frothing mad that he was bedridden for two weeks, unable to do anything but scream in sheer terror and writhe around, sweating feverishly. Itachi had somehow dragged him to a hotel room... his partner tried to care for him, bringing him food and water, but eventually gave up - the swordsman kept knocking the tray out of the younger man's hands and going straight for his throat, sometimes with his teeth.

Once he had recovered enough to think coherent thoughts, he had lost close to twenty pounds and was so weak he couldn't even walk. But the mental damage had been more severe... even after he could stand the sight of Itachi again without wanting to murder him, he found himself unable to drink booze or think about sex around his partner. It was like he had been castrated.

This had all happened several years ago... time had since worn away at the memory, smoothing it down to something bearable, but the thought of it still ran a chill down his spine.

X X X

"Damn, Kisame... that's _unforgivable!_" Deidara wasn't sure which he was feeling more - disgust, fury, or empathy. "How on earth are you able to tolerate being around that bastard?"

Kisame sighed, gazing wearily at the ground as he walked. He looked exhausted. "It was a long time ago," he said. "A lot has happened since then."

"But," the blonde stammered, his eyes wide, "you didn't even do anything to deserve it!"

The swordsman shrugged. "It was a long time ago," he bluntly repeated. It was obvious he'd said all he was willing to say about it.

"Still," Deidara muttered. A million questions buzzed in his head but he held his tongue. He looked up at the swordsman's face, briefly trying to imagine what it would look like crazed and emaciated, but no picture would form in his mind. Kisame was just so... solid. It seemed almost ludicrous that someone so strong could have been through such a harrowing experience. _But_, he supposed, _a weaker man never would have recovered at all. _He reached up and put his hand on Kisame's shoulder, gently urging him to stop walking. The swordsman stopped listlessly in his tracks, shooting the blonde a bland look.

"You look tired," Deidara said, kneading the taller man's shoulder. "Let's sit down for a minute... we can fly the rest of the way."

Kisame shrugged passively. "Alright," he sighed. They took a seat at the base of a tree and for a minute neither man said anything... the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind was soothing after the brutal recount.

"Hey," Deidara said softly, letting his hand wander over to the swordsman's thigh. The muscles were so tense they felt carved out of stone.

"Yah?" murmured Kisame.

"I'm happy you're alright."

The kiss happened without words, their lips meeting gently. Deidara lightly ran his hand over the swordsman's thigh as they slowly explored eachothers mouths, and he could feel Kisame's muscles beginning to relax. The blonde groaned softly and repeated the words in his mind, captivated by them.

_...I'm happy..._


	3. Chapter 3

"Hey Kisame?"

"What?"

The two men were tangled together at the base of the tree, hands groping flesh. "I may not have been... _completely _honest with you about something," the blonde confessed, his face hot.

A smirk played across Kisame's lips. "You feel like now's an appropriate time to tell me?" he asked. Deidara's fingers were shoved down the swordsman's pants, sliding over his hard shaft. The chilling tale of the Tsukiyomi had melted away, leaving a profound, raw lust in its wake.

"Well.." the blonde stammered, marveling that his fingers couldn't meet around the girth of Kisame's cock. "I've never actually..."

The swordsman fitfully unfastened his pants, grinding his hips a little, until his cock was loose of the fabric. It was the same slate blue as the rest of him, albeit an indigo flush at the tip, and it looked absolutely monsterous in Deidara's slender, pale hand. The daylight was revealing every detail that the night had concealed but it was only turning the blonde on more. Kisame's cock was gorgeous, almost alien, jutting from a neat triangle of midnight-blue pubic hair.

"I've never gone all the way with anyone before," Deidara finally blurted. He was blushing so fiercely it was making him dizzy. "Until last night, that is..."

Kisame smirked then laughed outloud, shocking the blonde - he'd been expecting a gasp of surprise or maybe a dumbfounded silence. "I knew it," the swordsman said, grinning so wide Deidara could see all his jagged teeth. "It was pretty obvious," he added as his hand slid further up the blonde's shirt.

"What was obvious?" Deidara huffed. He bit his lip when Kisame's fingers found his right nipple, pinching it lightly.

"Um... Everything," Kisame said, distracted. He lifted up the blonde's shirt and ran his tongue over Deidara's nipple in the wake of his fingertips, taking it lightly in his sharp teeth until it was rock-hard. "You were... really nervous," he murmured. He ran his fingers over the blonde's stitches with a mild curiousity before finding his left nipple, rubbing it with his calloused thumb.

"Of course I was," Deidara sighed. He wanted to be irritated but he was too horny - his cock was painfully hard, straining against his pants. "You were only taking my virginity..."

Kisame paused from biting Deidara's nipple for a second to let out another snort of laughter. "I lost _my _virginity when I fucked a woman," he mused, glancing up at the blonde with a scythe-like grin. The blonde sighed and shifted awkwardly, diverting his eyes.

"Screw you, Kisame..." he muttered. "It's not the same when you're gay."

"Hey," Kisame growled, planting something in between a bite and a kiss in the center of Deidara's chest. "If it's any consolation, you're the first man I've been with in..." He paused as if choosing his words. "In _forever_," he finally murmured.

"What does that mean?" Deidara panted, squirming under the swordsman's touch. "You've never been with a guy before?"

"Yah, you could say that," Kisame chuckled, smirking. "Until last night, I was fairly convinced I was straight." His hand wandered down to the blonde's erection and grasped it firmly through his pants before sliding up and down the shaft with what Deidara had to admit was an expert touch. "But I just couldn't pass up fucking your drunk ass senseless," he mused.

"Ugh... be a little more blunt..." Deidara moaned. There was no doubt that Kisame was an experienced lover, regardless of gender - the swordsman's confession had actually surprised him. He was playing Deidara's senses like a virtuoso. The blonde gasped breathlessly when Kisame unfastened his belt and pulled out his cock, stroking it with his rough fingers.

"Well honestly," Kisame mumbled, eyes fixated on Deidara's cock, "I'm a little surprised with myself. You turn me on more than any of the women I've banged." He smirked, shooting the blonde a sheepish look. "Guess that makes me gay," he said lightly.

Deidara grinned, bucking his hips a little as Kisame's fingers teased the head of his dick. "Nothing really bothers you, does it?" he asked.

"Nope," the swordsman stated. "If being with you makes me queer, so be it." He kissed the blonde's neck, grazing it with his teeth, then moved up to his jawline, nipping the skin lightly with each kiss. Deidara groaned, squirming uncontrollably. He had always been obsessed with Kisame's sharp teeth, fantasizing about them in various perverted ways, and the feel of them sparked a long-standing fetish. When the swordsman lightly bit his lower lip, he cried out breathlessly and crushed their lips together so hard it hurt.

"Damn," Kisame growled - he paused the kiss briefly to move the blonde onto his lap, lifting him like he was light as a feather. Deidara moaned a curse and squirmed, his cock rubbing up against the swordsman's. He looked down, biting his lip... the sight of Kisame's stiff blue cock against his was one of the horniest things he'd ever witnessed. "Wanna fuck?" the swordsman panted, roughly squeezing the blonde's hips.

"I don't think my ass can handle it," Deidara murmured, grinding his hips. "It still kinda hurts..."

"If you had just relaxed-"

"I know, I know..." He kissed the swordsman again, moaning as their tongues fucked. When their lips parted he was so horny he already felt on the verge of orgasm. "Just... lemme suck your cock instead," he panted.

Kisame grinned crookedly. "Okay," he said, doing little to hide his excitement. "You know... if you really want to..."

Deidara's response was just a horny smirk as he wriggled off the swordsman's lap and laid himself down in the grass. Oral sex was one of the things he actually had some experience in... there were a few Iwagakure shinobi probably questioning their sexuality to this day because of it. He propped himself up on his elbows and grasped the base of Kisame's shaft, blushing fiercely. "I haven't done this in a while," he murmured before tentatively running his tongue over the head.

The swordsman just smirked, grinding his hips a little in anticipation. Deidara licked the head again then slid his tongue up and down the shaft. Having control over Kisame's orgasm ran a thrill down his spine and when he finally put the head in his mouth, he was jerking himself off with his free hand. He sucked the head lightly, relishing in the breathless moans that met his ears in response, then slid his lips down until he could feel the tip pressing against his throat. Kisame's cock so thick it was straining his mouth - he had only swallowed a third of the length and he was already close to gagging.

"Heh... just relax," the swordsman growled. Deidara groaned, his face hot, when he felt the swordsman's fingers graze over his neck, rubbing his throat gently. "Take a little more," Kisame prodded. The blonde closed his eyes and slid down further, feeling the tip pierce into the tight passage of his throat. The urge to gag was intense but Kisame's fingers massaging his neck were somehow suppressing the feeling. He wondered how many girls the swordsman had coaxed into deepthroating... but for some reason the thought turned him on. He took it as a bizarre sort of challenge to prove to Kisame that he was better than a girl.

Blushing, he slid down further, doing his best to relax as his throat tried to compensate Kisame's thick cock. The swordsman sighed and bit his lip, then placed his other hand on the back of the blonde's head. "Fuck..." he moaned. "You're tight." His fingers twined through Deidara's hair as the younger man persistantly worked down further and further until his lips met his fingers at the base of Kisame's shaft. His throat felt as though it might tear and he couldn't breathe, but he was so turned on he could barely stand it. Kisame's prick was much larger than anyone else's he'd deepthroated... painfully so... yet there was just something so intensely erotic about forcing it to fit. When the swordsman roughly pulled his hair and began to guide his head up and down, he obeyed with unbridled enthusiasm, a shiver running down his spine.

"Damn, Deidara..." Kisame was bucking his hips, trying to restrain himself as he thrusted into the blonde's mouth. "I'm almost there..." The blonde's response was a muffled moan - he was already close too, fucking his hand in rhythm with the swordsman's thrusts. Kisame's hand tightened around his throat, constricting it even further, and the fingers twisted in his hair were pulling it so hard it was forcing tears out of his eyes. His face felt hot, his lungs were burning for air, and when he felt the swordsman's cum coat his throat, his orgasm came on so powerfully it clouded his vision. He moaned, shuddering uncontrollably as he spilled his seed... when Kisame pulled out his softening cock he could do nothing for a minute but dizzily hang his head and gasp for air. He looked up and saw the swordsman leaning back against the tree, panting and holding his dick.

"Heh... fuckin' hot..." Kisame sighed, a grin sliding over his lips as he buttoned up his pants.

"Yah," Deidara murmured. "That was... insane..." He rolled onto his back and rested his head on the swordsman's thigh, lifting his hips as he fastened his belt.

"Yah..." Kisame wiped a tear from the younger man's cheek then gently placed his hand on his head. Deidara sighed contentedly and closed his eyes, enjoying the way Kisame's fingers absently stroked his hair. For a while neither man spoke... after such intensity, the silence was welcoming.

"Damn..." Kisame sighed. Deidara blearily opened his eyes... he had nearly fallen asleep.

"What?" he asked.

The swordsman was looking away, a mildly puzzled expression on his sharp features. "It's just weird," he murmured. His gaze swung down to the blonde.

Deidara felt himself blushing. "What's weird?" he asked.

Kisame shrugged, his fingers still running through the blonde's hair. "I don't know," he stated. "I guess... I just like you, that's all."

The blush on Deidara's cheeks deepened. "Heh... really?" he said.

"It wasn't supposed to be funny," Kisame growled.

"Oh... no, it's not," Deidara said. He scooted a little closer, resting his head in the swordsman's lap. "It's just awesome... that's all." He looked up at the sky... the sun was sparkling through the canopy like glitter. It was still only early afternoon; they could afford to hang out for a few more minutes. He closed his eyes again, feeling strangely at peace.


	4. Chapter 4

After dozing off for a while, the two headed back to the hideout. The wind was in their favor so they were there by nightfall. Deidara landed in a small clearing about a quarter mile out, making the clay birds disappear with a quick handsign. He sighed and popped his back, feeling a little drained. It had been a long day.

"Gah... my ears won't pop," Kisame muttered, shifting Samehada on his back. "Why do you insist on descending so fast?"

"Stop being such a pussy," Deidara growled. The blunt fact that their mission was over had put him in a sullen mood. He didn't want to seperate from Kisame... at all. He had a feeling that Kisame was feeling the same way - the swordsman had a bland, mildly irritated expression on his face.

They walked to the hideout in silence, unsure of what to say to eachother. When they were standing by the sealed entrance, Kisame put a hand on the blonde's shoulder, urging him to stop. "Hang on a minute," he said.

"What is it?" Deidara asked, turning to face the taller man. Kisame unshouldered Samehada and ripped off a little piece of its binding.

"Your neck," he mumbled. "I bit it, remember?"

"Oh," Deidara said. He felt the bite with his fingers... the teeth marks were little scabs, forming a ring on the side of his neck. It would be impossible to explain it if anyone saw... he had completely forgotten about it. Kisame pulled out a kunai and walked over to a pine tree, scoring it lightly until a few beads of sap came out. He rubbed the sap onto the edges of the cloth then stuck it unceremoniously onto Deidara's neck, shrugging as if to say, _I'd like to see you do better_. "Thanks..." the blonde muttered.

"Yah, well... rumors spread fast in this organization," Kisame stated. "I swear these people are worse than schoolgirls."

"Yeah," Deidara sighed, reflecting on the fact. Zetsu was probably the worst... his abilities to sneak about unnoticed weren't always used for useful information gathering, and the white half _really _liked to blab. Hidan was a close second - the newest member talked so much it seemed as though his mouth never even shut. But everyone was guilty of it. Between missions there just wasn't much to do other than sit around and talk shit. Being Akatsuki wasn't nearly as glamorous as it sounded... sometimes it was flat-out lame.

"Alright, let's go," Kisame said. He looked down at the blonde as he formed a few quick handsigns. "And believe me... we'll do this again," he stated with a smirk.

"Damn straight," Deidara replied, trying not to blush.

The thicket of trees before them vanished, wavering as the illusion dissipated, and a round hatch appeared in the ground. This hideout was nothing like the vast, echoing caverns they used for sealing biju. It was just a rough underground barracks, equipped with basic necessities. As Deidara followed Kisame down the metal rungs, his senses were greeted with the unpleasant reality of the place. It was damp, claustrophobic, and smelled kind of like a wet dog. They walked down a narrow hallway, their shadows flickering in the light of oil lamps, and turned a corner to the living quarters, which was just an identical hallway lined with doors.

Deidara sighed wearily, already feeling depressed. "I gotta find Sasori," he mumbled, his voice sounding muffled and flat against the cement walls.

"He's probably where you left him," Kisame said. They approached the end of the hallway, where there was a slightly bigger door - the weaponry. A reek of preservatives hit their noses, verifying Kisame's theory.

"Ugh," Deidara said aloud. His motions felt forced as he knocked on the door. A muffled voice snapped something in response... nose wrinkled, the blonde let himself in, Kisame following behind him with a bemused smirk. The swordsman didn't give a shit about art but he had a weird penchant for morbid crap... he always liked to peek his head in when Sasori was 'creating.'

"Deidara," the puppetmaster stated, as if the word tasted bad. The blonde sullenly rolled his eyes, trying not to look as disgusted as he felt. Sasori had transformed the room into a bloody art gallery... human puppets hung from the walls in various stages of completion and buckets of entrails were scattered about, some of them so full they were overflowing. Sasori, incongruously innocent looking without Hiruko, had on a bloodied lab coat and was mixing something in a vial.

"Nice," Kisame sneered, grinning sharkily as he looked around.

"How's it going?" Sasori said, nodding at the swordsman. "Did the brat give you any trouble?"

"Nah," Kisame repied. "I didn't have to lift a finger. His jutsu fit the mission, heheh." Sasori looked the swordsman up and down then shot him a weird, suspicious glare as if to say, _that's clearly not all that happened_. "Well, I gotta find Itachi," Kisame said quickly. "Later..."

"Screw you," Deidara mumbled as the swordsman slipped out of the room. Once alone with his partner, he did a mental countdown as the two glared at eacthother.

Three... two... one...

"How did you both lose your jackets?" Sasori demanded, right on queue. "And-"

"Piss off, freak," Deidara growled. "I'm not in the mood."

"Don't cut me off," Sasori snapped. The blonde hadn't even noticed Hiruko's empty shell in the corner until its scorpion-like tail lashed out, piercing the cement wall behind his head as he narrowly dodged.

"For crying out loud, Sasori," Deidara huffed. That cursed tail had whipped his ass more times than he could count. "We just forgot them, that's all." He turned his back, trying not to wince as he briefly opened himself up for another strike. "I'm gonna take a shower," he growled, slipping out the door and shutting it firmly behind him.

X X X

"Itachi's doing better... but he should still be confined to bedrest for at least-"

"I didn't ask you," Kisame growled, pushing the medic ninja aside as he barged into the room. The girl shot him a glare but bit her tongue - she had been sent here from Amegakure to tend to Itachi and it was very apparent that she hadn't had a choice. His partner was lying in bed, his head propped up with a few pillows. "How do you feel?" he asked, glancing around the makeshift ward for evidence - when he had left days earlier, there had been wastebaskets full of tissues, spattered with coughed-up blood.

"I'm fine," Itachi rasped. He coughed into his hand a few times then sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Kisame shrewdly noticed that his partner's cough hadn't contained any blood. "We have a mission in the morning," the younger man added, his voice weak.

"With all respect, sir-"

Kisame gave the girl another push, narrowing his eyes. "Go away," he hissed.

"But-"

He grabbed the medic by the collar and roughly escorted her out of the room, leaving her glaring in the hallway as he slammed the door in her face. _All medics say the same thing_, he brooded. _There's no cure. _When he looked back at Itachi the younger man smirked wearily.

"So... you're feeling better?" Kisame asked, crossing his arms.

"Why don't you ask _her?_" Itachi replied, mildly bemused. "But I'm fine... how was your mission?"

Kisame suppressed a smirk. "It went surprisingly well," he said. "Deidara's a lot stronger than I thought he'd be. I didn't have to do shit."

Itachi's eyes narrowed slightly, giving Kisame a mild chill. "You look beat up," he observed, glancing over the new array of scars on the swordsman's chest. "What happened?"

"The brat has a temper, that's all," Kisame growled. "It wasn't a big deal."

"Oh," Itachi said. After an unnerving pause, he coughed again and added, "You were probably picking on him, weren't you?"

Kisame smirked. "Of course I was," he said. "But he got over it when I kicked his ass." He shifted Samehada on his back, contemplating. _He's not over his grudge with Itachi, though, _he told himself. He had thought telling the blonde about the Tsukiyomi would dissuade him from picking a fight with the Uchiha... but in retrospect, it had probably only fueled his rage.

"What's our mission?" he asked, pushing away the concern for the time being.

"Spying," Itachi sighed. "Your favorite."

"Ugh. That sucks," Kisame growled. "On who?"

Itachi shrugged. "Pain is considering a contract with Iwa... But before he takes it, he wants us to spy on the Tsuchikage's closest shinobi and see if they leak any information. Apparently the geezer's too conniving to be trustworthy."

"Well, if he's thinking of hiring Akatsuki, of course he's not trustworthy," Kisame mused, smirking. "What're the ninja's names we're spying on?"

"Kurotsuchi and Akatsuchi," Itachi said.

"Huh." Kurotsuchi... that name sounded familiar. Suddenly he remembed what Deidara had told him and a snort of laughter escaped his lips.

"What's so funny?" Itachi asked.

"Ah, nothing," Kisame lied, grinning. "I'm gonna get some sleep... when are we taking off?"

Itachi shrugged. "Dawn, I guess," he said. "Is that okay?"

"Yah, of course," Kisame replied, trying not to sound cynical. The days when Itachi had to beat the swordsman's hungover ass to get him out of bed were long past. "Well... rest up," he said. "Should I let that medic back in?"

"No," said Itachi, waving his hand dismissively. "I don't need any more medicine." He sighed, looking pensive. "We're supposed to kill her when she's served her purpose."

Kisame snorted. "Well..." he pondered, "Maybe Sasori wants another puppet..."

X X X

The girl went without a fight... she'd been expecting it. Kisame tried to give her as painless a death as possible, snapping her neck, but she had still writhed around in agony before she died, making him wish he had just beheaded her. Once the deed was done, he dragged the corpse down the hall and dumped it unceremoniously into the weaponry.

"What's that?" Sasori growled. He was in the process of cleaning up - the buckets of gore had been disposed of and there was a strong odor of antiseptic in the air.

Kisame shrugged. "Thought you might be able to use it," he said.

"No," Sasori stated flatly. "I don't have time. Deidara and I are leaving on a mission in the morning." He glanced at the cadaver, his face expressionless. "Plus, I have no need for a medic puppet. What am I gonna do? _Heal _my opponents to death?"

The swordsman sighed wearily. He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying, _you could use it to heal Deidara, but obviously you only care about yourself. _"Well fuck it then," he said instead. "I'll go bury it." He hoisted the corpse over his shoulder and made for the door. "Oh, just out of curiosity... what's your mission?" he asked.

"Pain got a contract to do a few hits," Sasori said. Met with Kisame's questioning glare, he sighed and added, "Some Kumo ninja. Don't know who the contract is with and frankly I don't care."

"Huh," Kisame mumbled. "Usually Kakuzu does the bounties."

A little grin flickered over Sasori's lips. "Kakuzu's probably busy tentacle-raping Hidan," he snickered. "I guess Zetsu saw them getting all.. _sadomasocistic_..."

"Oh yah?" Kisame said. "I saw that one coming a mile away."

"Zetsu said Hidan had a bunch of senbon pierced through his-"

"Feh! I've heard enough." The swordsman quickly made his exit, giving Sasori a half-hearted wave as he abruptly shut the door. As much as he secretly enjoyed hearing gossip, he couldn't handle it right now. He was too wrapped up in the fact that he and Deidara were inevitably going to be the next targets... it was just a matter of time.

X X X

Deidara had already spent half an hour showering, and when he tried unsuccessfully to run a comb through his tangled hair, he prepared himself to spend half an hour more. At least. He sighed and sat himself down at a bench, a towel wrapped around his waist.

The shower was just as unimpressive as every other room in the hideout... a pipe ran along the wall dotted with showerheads, the floor was the same cold cement as the ceiling and walls, and a few metal benches and lockers were huddled in the corner. He'd seen a prison shower... and this was decidedly worse. But at least the water was hot and there was soap - a small step up from bathing in a river.

He hadn't combed out more than half of the tangles when he heard the door open. _Oh shit, my neck, _he fretted, glancing hopelessly around the barren room for something to cover it with. Kisame's makeshift bandage had fallen off the second it had gotten wet. Finally he just hung his hair over it, hoping whoever it was wouldn't notice.

"Heh, for crying out loud, just relax." He looked up to find Kisame towering over him, dripping sweat and covered head-to-toe in dirt and blood.

"Gah, back off," the blonde hissed, inwardly sighing with relief. "You'll get me dirty just standing _near _me." He looked over the swordsman again - even Samehada was filthy, making tatters of its bindings as it flexed its spines uncomfortably. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked.

"Just... stupidity," Kisame muttered. "I had to kill one of our hostages and bury them outside... And then a few shinobi passed by and saw me... so I had to dig a bigger hole."

Deidara snorted. "Sounds exciting," he said. "What village were they from?"

"Suna, I think," Kisame said as he unshouldered Samehada and laid it on the floor. "I didn't pay much attention... I was too busy shredding them to pieces." As Samehada wriggled its way out of the bindings, Deidara noticed little chunks of human flesh caught in its spines.

"How nice," Deidara murmured. Killing shinobi without warrant was strickly forbidden... but when the location of a hideout was at stake, it was absolutely neccessary to make sure no one got away alive. It was one of the few exceptions to the rules. "I'm a little jealous," he admitted.

Kisame flashed the blonde a jagged grin as he got undressed. "Don't worry, you'll get to snag a few shinobi on your mission," he said.

"My mission?"

The swordsman laughed outloud then explained.

"Huh," Deidara said. "I haven't seen the Land of Lightning in years. It's pretty."

Kisame scoffed as he walked over to the shower, Samehada leaving a trail of blood as it scooted along behind him. "Yeah, I suppose. But the Raikage's turned Kumogakure into a bunch of dumb bodybuiders," he said. "Brick-headed jocks, the lot of them." He shrugged, gesturing with a bar of soap. "They're strong, don't get me wrong..." he relented. "But bodybuilding is pure vanity... and women don't even like that crap."

"Neither do men," Deidara added with a smirk.

"Heheh..." Kisame turned on the water, cursing loudly as he briefly scalded himself before adjusting it. Deidara sighed, returning his attentions to his tangled hair, but he couldn't stop himself from staring at the swordsman as he showered. The man was just so damn handsome... his body was slender yet ripped, the result of a brutal lifestyle, not lifting weights. Battlescars nicked his otherwise flawless blue skin, some of which looked like the result of near-fatal injuries... having Samehada around to heal him had probably given him a longer lifespan, though not necessarily an easier one. Every aspect of Kisame's appearance conveyed ruthless perserverence through a life of violence.

"Damnit..." the swordsman muttered, cutting off Deidara's train of thought. "Sometimes I wish Samehada wasn't so spiky..." He knelt down and began to tediously pick all the chunks of flesh out of the sword's spines. Deidara suppressed a laugh - it was like looking at a warped, sadistic image of a boy and his dog. Samehada's tongue was hanging out of its frightening maw and its tail contentedly thumped against the wet cement... it was definitely the happiest creature in the entire compound. The blonde had a feeling that Samehada was happy no matter what, as long as it was by its master's side. _ If I could be by Kisame's side all day, I'd probably be happy too, _he thought to himself.

As he methodically combed the knots out of his hair, he reflected on the thought. It had only been roughly a day since they had hooked up, but his desire for Kisame had already grown into something deeper. He could barely stand the fact that they were going to go their seperate ways in the morning... and frankly, the emotions _baffled _him. When he had left behind Iwagakure - his friends, his lovers, his entire life - he hadn't felt a thing. In fact, he'd been convinced that the concept of a 'bond' was nothing more than a tool to inspire teamwork amongst shinobi. He had never thought that bonds really existed... until now.

The squeaky groan of the water turning off snapped Deidara out of his thoughts. He looked over to find both swordsman and sword clean; the only evidence remaining of their brawl was a few chunks of flesh stuck in the metal drain. Kisame sauntered up to the lockers and grabbed out two towels, his wet skin glistening. Grinning, he tossed one onto Samehada before drying himself off, rubbing the towel over his hair until it stuck out in haphazard spikes.

"Pretty," Deidara murmured.

"Ha, I'm still not ruling out the possibility that you have a concussion," Kisame said as he wrapped the towel around his waist. "I don't think that word has _ever _been used to describe me." He took a seat next to Deidara on the bench then leaned over and dried off Samehada, briskly shimmying the towel over its spines. The sword flexed obediently and rolled over when its top side was dry, suggesting that this was something they had done a million times before.

"Kisame..." Deidara mumbled as he finally untangled the last knot from his hair. "Maybe I _am _going crazy. I think I'm really going to miss you."

The swordsman stopped drying Samehada, leaving the towel draped over it like a blanket. "Come on, now," he said as he sat back upright. "We'll see eachother again soon." He ran his fingers through Deidara's hair, making the blonde blush and lean into the caress. "Just don't go blow yourself up... I'll be _pissed_." He gently cupped the back of Deidara's head and pulled him in for a kiss, their lips meeting softly.

Deidara moaned, his eyes fluttering shut. Just the feel of Kisame's lips pressed chastely against his made his heart race. He reached up and ran his fingers over the contours of the swordsman's jawline, lightly caressing the gill marks - they were actual indents, like scars, he marveled. Kisame growled and nipped Deidara's bottom lip, teasing it in his sharp teeth, before slipping in his tongue.

The feel of Kisame's slick tongue against his ran a thrill down Deidara's spine and lust hit him so quickly it was dizzying. He'd never imagined that someone so cold and rough on the outside could be so damn delicious on the inside. He found himself crushing their lips together, fucking the swordsman's mouth with his tongue, and his hands seemed to be moving with a will of their own, hungrily groping Kisame's muscular chest, his neck, his stomach. His cock was already uncomfortably hard, pressing urgently against the towel.

Suddenly, the swordsman broke the kiss and placed a hand over Deidara's, making him stop. "I'm sorry... we can't be doing this here," he panted. "Someone could walk in..."

Deidara blinked in disbelief, taking a moment to register the words in his head. His heart was pounding in his chest and his face was hot as anger set in on top of the lust. "So what if they do?" he huffed. "I don't care, _hmm!_"

"Not so loud," Kisame hissed, his eyes darting to the door and back.

"What're you so afraid of, anyway?" Deidara growled. "Are you embarrassed to be seen with me? That's it, isn't it?"

Kisame narrowed his eyes... he almost looked hurt. "You idiot," he snapped. "If word of this gets to Pain, he could make it so we never fuckin' see eachother again! He disapproves of this kind of thing... sees it as a liability."

"A liability?" Deidara asked.

"Yah... He doesn't want us to have attachments, especially to one another. Bonds cause people to do stupid, risky things. Professionals like us aren't even supposed to have _emotions_. Get it?"

Deidara's hands clenched into fists. "That's stupid," he stated.

"It's reality," Kisame growled. Cursing through his teeth, he stiffly rose to his feet and gathered his filthy clothes. His cock was hard, sticking straight out under the towel - he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache.

"No, it's fuckin' _stupid_," Deidara burst. He was so frustrated he felt on the verge of tears. "We live in shitty barracks," - he gestured wildly at the room around them - "we risk our lives every day, we're branded as criminals... and we can't even _fuck?_"

Kisame raised his finger as if to argue but Deidara wasn't done.

"I'm not going to bed tonight without fucking you," the blonde hissed, rising to his feet. "And if Pain has a problem with it, he can suck my angry cock!" He felt an urge to punch the swordsman in the face for being so damn stupid, but he forced himself to acknowledge that Kisame was actually just being smart. He sighed, trying to calm down. "I don't care how stupid it is," he finally muttered, crossing his arms.

The room fell silent for a moment. Deidara glanced down and noticed that Samehada was bristling its spines, unsure of whether or not he was a threat.

"Most of the barracks aren't this shitty," Kisame murmured, as if to himself. Met with Deidara's frustrated glare, he sighed and added, "The bedrooms have locks... I guess if we make it quick..."

Deidara was so eager he made a dash for the door but Kisame roughly pushed him back.

"Put your damn clothes on," he growled. "You're not walking in or out of my room half-naked." He slung Samehada over his shoulder and said, "Last door on the left." He pointed at the south wall. "That way." And then he was gone.

Deidara dressed quickly, shoving his feet into his shoes and ripping one of his shirts a little as he wrestled it on. When he was clothed, he screwed with his hair for a second to make sure it covered the bite mark on his neck, then made for the door. Just as he was about to grab the handle, it turned... seemingly on its own. The door swung open, nearly smacking him in the face, and in walked Sasori, still dressed in his bloody lab coat. The puppetmaster regarded him with the calm look of disdain he usually wore around his partner.

"Have you been in here this whole time?" he growled, pushing past the blonde to the lockers. "It's been over an hour."

"Ugh... why do you care?" Deidara huffed. He wondered if he looked as flustered as he felt.

Sasori seemed to contemplate the question for a second. "Actually, I couldn't care less," he finally stated. "But we have a mission in the morning. Go to sleep."

Deidara sighed, biting his tongue, then made his exit, shutting the door firmly behind him. _Maybe I should have stayed and argued,_ he pondered as he walked down the hall. _It wouldn't have been as suspicious..._ When he approached the room that was supposed to be Kisame's, he glanced around warily to make sure he wasn't being watched before letting himself in.

Kisame's room looked exactly like all the others - there was a bed, a dresser, and an oil lamp mounted on the wall. The only evidence that the room was lived in was the pile of dirty clothes he'd been wearing tossed into one corner and a couple of scrolls rolled out on the dresser.

"Lock the door," the swordsman growled. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, still clad in only a towel as he wrapped up Samehada. When he was done, he rested the sword against the dresser and regarded the blonde, who was still fiddling with the lock. It was as if the door had never been locked before - he had to lift it up awkwardly to get the bolt to slide through the hole. When he finally got it, he sighed and walked over to the bed. Kisame grabbed him by the hips, pulling him onto his lap. "This is a really stupid idea," he hissed.

Deidara pulled off his shirts, wriggling a little in his impatience. "You agreed to it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "so it must not be _that _stupid." His breath hitched when Kisame's hands slid over his bare waist.

"Well, we have to be quick," the swordsman growled quietly in his ear. "And you _can't _be screaming curses when I fuck you." He lightly nipped Deidara's ear, teasing it in his teeth, and the blonde had to bite his lip to stop himself from crying out. His heart was already racing... he felt a knot of mingled anticipation and fear clenched tightly in his gut.

Kisame pulled him in closer so the blonde's back was pressed against his chest, then grabbed a handful of hair and twisted his head to the side. Growling, he pressed their mouths together, picking up where they had left off in the shower. Deidara groaned dizzily, captivated by feel of the swordsman's mouth, and barely noticed when Kisame quickly unfastened his belt with his free hand. He moaned again when he felt his pants being tugged off and eagerly helped with the process until seconds later he was naked - they hadn't even broken their kiss. The swordsman ran his fingers over Deidara's hard shaft, lightly teasing the head, before finally pulling their mouths apart.

"Turn around," he whispered. Deidara obeyed, blushing feircely, until he was straddling Kisame's lap. The swordsman lifted him up a little as he wrestled the towel from around his waist, revealing his hard cock. He grabbed the blonde's hand and pulled it toward his mouth. "This time, I want you to do it," he growled. He took Deidara's index and middle finger into his mouth, wetting them with his tongue. Deidara sighed, loving the way the swordsman's slick mouth felt, and tried to push in deeper... but Kisame merely pulled them out, then guided them back to the blonde's ass. "I want you to finger yourself," he commanded quietly.

"Kisame-"

"Shut up and do it," the swordsman hissed. Deidara gasped as Kisame positioned his fingers, making them rub up against the spot. He moved his hips slightly, liking the way it felt, then shot the swordsman a glare.

"Let me do it then," he panted. Kisame grinned, his eyes flashing, and let go of the blonde's hand. Deidara sighed, feeling an odd wave of relief. Without the pressure of being forced into it, his fingers slipped in with surprisingly little resistance - both at once. He moaned, squirming as he pushed further, until finally he was knuckles deep. It barely even hurt... and when Kisame lightly bit his nipple, teasing it with his tongue, he started to avidly thrust in and out. "Damn," he huffed, his face hot. "It feels... really good..." Despite being gay and all it entailed, he had never fingered his ass before - he'd just assumed it would be painful. But after a moment there was no pain at all, just a wave of pleasure every time he thrusted.

"Put in another finger," Kisame growled, running his hands over the blonde's writhing hips. "Stretch it out enough for my cock."

"Ah, fuck..." Deidara winced as he slid in his ring finger, his erection pressing up against the swordsman's stomach. He had to twist his hand as he pushed and when he finally was in to the knuckles again he paused to catch his breath. The feel of his tight passage pulsing around his fingers made his groan and bite his lip - no wonder Kisame wanted to fuck him. When he was ready, he slowly slid out then thrusted back in, rocking his hips. Just like before, there was a mild pain but it vanished after a few thrusts, leaving only pleasure. Panting, he leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of Kisame's neck. As he quickened his thrusts, he bit the swordsman's skin to muffle his cries. Kisame growled, his hands groping the blonde's ass.

"Put my cock in," the swordsman panted, "or else we're both gonna cum without even fucking..."

Deidara was so horny he could only moan in response. Kisame was right on the money - he was already on the verge of orgasm. He sighed breathlessly as he pulled out his fingers, wincing a little. The swordsman leaned back onto one elbow and spit onto his hand. He glared hotly at the blonde as he wet his dick.

"Come on," he growled, pulling his hand away. "Sit on it." His ruthless, exotic eyes were almost paralyzing in their intensity.

Deidara's body seemed to move with a will of its own as he scooted forward a little and positioned the head of Kisame's cock against his ass. "Fuck," he cursed through his clenched teeth. Nervous as he was, he had never wanted anything so badly in his life. Slowly, he eased in the tip. It was nothing like his fingers - it felt smooth and slick, making him gasp in both pleasure and pain. He clamped his eyes shut as he let more slide in... he felt every inch like it was a mile, stretching his ass so tight it made his whole body rigid with strain. When he had finally squeezed in Kisame's entire cock, he could do nothing but shiver and raggedly catch his breath for a minute. The swordsman's steel-hard length throbbed inside him... he reveled in the feel of it, timidly opening his eyes and locking them on Kisame's. He realized that there was something profound about being joined this way - it was a deep intimacy that made his heart pound and his throat tighten.

He kept his eyes locked on Kisame's as he slowly began to move up and down, enduring the pain until it eased away to pleasure... and the pleasure was ten times more intense than it had been with just his fingers. With every thrust he found himself becoming more and turned on until eventually he was slamming down onto Kisame's cock, writhing his hips and biting his lip hard to keep from screaming in ecstasy. He put one hand on his cock and the other on the swordsman's chest for balance as his motions became more frenzied.

"Mmm... Deidara..." Kisame groaned. He grabbed the blonde's thigh as he began to grind his hips, intensifying each thrust with just the slightest movements. The two glared hotly at eachother, their motions as one, until the lust swept Deidara away, nearly blinding him as he spilled his seed into his clenched hand. Seconds later, as the orgasm wracked his senses, he heard a muffled curse and felt Kisame's slick cum coat his insides. He reveled in the sensation, groaning dizzily as the swordsman thrust into him until he was drained. His ears were ringing and his heart pounded in his chest... every orgasm he'd had with Kisame thus far had been just... _mind-blowing_. His past experiences paled in comparison; he was positive that no one else would ever be able to bring him to this level of ecstasy.

"Oh, man..." Kisame sighed, flopping back onto the bed. Exhausted, Deidara laid down onto the swordsman's chest, nuzzling his head up against the taller man's neck. When Kisame's softening length slipped out, he shivered a little and moaned. The swordsman gently rolled the blonde off him, letting him curl up at his side. Both men were too spent for words.

Deidara sighed contentedly, his head on Kisame's shoulder. The swordsman's solid warmth was comforting. "Lemme stay here a bit longer," he murmured.

Kisame didn't say anything in repsonse... he just pulled Deidara in closer, wrapping his arms around the younger man's slight frame.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey... wake up..."

Deidara slowly opened his eyes. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep. Kisame was sitting on the edge of the bed, a nervous expression on his face. He had put some pants on at some point.

"Sorry..." the swordsman muttered. "You can't sleep here..."

"Mmm..." Deidara moaned sleepily, slowly rising to a sitting position. "Yeah, I know..." He rubbed his eyes then made himself get off the bed. He had a feeling he would have slept like a rock if Kisame hadn't woken him up. As he began to get dressed, Kisame got up and went to the dresser, rummaging through the top drawer. The swordsman finally pulled out a few square-shaped bandages. He opened one up, peeling the paper off the adhesive.

"Here," he said. "Lemme see your neck."

Deidara pulled his hair back, revealing the bite mark. As Kisame bent down a little to put on the bandage, the blonde felt himself blushing - he would never get over how insanely tall the swordsman was compared to his own meager stature.

"Okay, that's better," Kisame said, rubbing the bandage to make sure it was stuck on firmly. "Make sure you keep it covered until it's completely healed." He placed the spare bandages in Deidara's hand. "And whenever someone asks you, just say an arrow grazed your neck when you were fighting those thugs."

"Alright," Deidara sighed. He knew it was only a matter of time before Sasori drilled him about it. As he finished getting dressed, Kisame regarded him edgily. He shot the swordsman a questioning glare as he wrestled on his last shoe. Sighing, Kisame sat down on the bed and took the blonde's hand, pulling him close.

"You know how I told you about Itachi's Tsukiyomi?" he asked. Deidara just nodded, wondering why the swordsman was bringing it up. "I told you as a warning," he continued, looking off to the side.

"A warning?" Deidara repeated. "What was the warning?"

Kisame sighed again, looking mildly irritated. "I know you have a grudge against Itachi," he said. The blonde rolled his eyes sullenly. "Listen," the swordsman urged, a hint of anger in his voice. "I also know you have a short fuse. You started a fight with me over a bottle of fuckin' sake."

"You were being an ass," Deidara stated flatly.

"Whatever," Kisame snapped. "My point is, however much you hate Itachi, don't pick a fight with him. Ever."

"What makes you think I'll lose so easily?" Deidara huffed. "That last battle was a fluke. You think I'd fall for the same stupid trick twice?"

"Deidara... you're completely missing my point," Kisame growled, exasperated. "It has nothing to do with whether or not I think you're strong enough to win. Itachi is my partner... and I don't want to be in a position where my partner and my lover are trying to _kill _eachother. Do you understand?"

Deidara shifted uncomfortably, blushing at how Kisame had used the word 'lover.' But killing Itachi had become his own personal goal since joining the Akatsuki... Kisame's plea might as well have fallen on deaf ears. "Yeah, I understand," he said. "But I'm not making any promises."

Kisame cursed under his breath. "I swear, Deidara," he muttered. "You're so fucking brickheaded sometimes. If you kill Itachi, I won't be able to forgive you. And if Itachi kills you..." He shook his head. "I don't know. I'll probably end up killing him... or die trying. Don't put me in that position." He shot Deidara a dark glare, a hint of desperation in his unnerving eyes. It was obvious that he'd been agonizing over this for some time.

"Damnit," Deidara sighed. "Well, I'll try, okay? And tell Itachi not to egg me on. That bastard is so damn condescending around me..." He trailed off, suddenly sick of the whole conversation. Why did Kisame have to bring this shit up now? From the expression on the swordsman's face, it appeared as though he was sick of talking about it, too. It was an uncomfortable subject.

"Okay," Kisame said wearily. He pulled the blonde in closer and gave him a quick kiss. "You should get some rest," he stated. "We're all leaving around dawn."

"What's your mission?" Deidara asked.

Kisame merely shrugged. "Spying," was all he said.

"Well... maybe I'll see you in the morning," Deidara said, trying not to sound too hopeful. He shot Kisame one last glance as he slipped out the door but the swordsman was already looking away.

X X X

He didn't end up seeing Kisame in the morning - Sasori woke him up at least an hour before dawn and they left while it was still dark. Sleepy and irritated, Deidara didn't say a word to the puppetmaster until daybreak.

"How long of a journey is it?" he finally asked, too bored to remain silent. Luckily he'd had a spare Akatsuki robe and straw hat in his room. He had a feeling it was going to be colder where they were going... the elevation was a lot higher.

"Three, maybe four days," Sasori growled. He was wearing Hiruko again and the puppet's rough voice suited his cold personality. "We're going to cut through the Land of Fire... it's quicker."

"It's also more dangerous, hmm?" Deidara pointed out. "Maybe we should fly."

"Don't even start with that, Deidara," Sasori growled. "I'm not riding one of your... _bombs_."

The blonde sighed. He wanted to say that Kisame had flown with him but he knew it wouldn't help. Nothing he threw at the puppetmaster would get him to change his mind... the guy was so freakin' stubborn. He was glad his hat hid his face because he was positive that he looked as miserable as he felt. Just thinking of Kisame brought a pang of despair. How long would it be until he saw the swordsman again? Weeks? Months?

He realized he was hungry - starving, actually - and pulled out a food pill. He glared at the tablet, wrinkling his nose, before reluctantly popping it in his mouth.

X X X

Kisame sighed, popping the small of his back. Itachi showed no signs of illness - in fact, his partner had set an uncomfortably quick pace, forcing him to walk a little faster than he prefered. He hadn't had this problem with Deidara... the blonde was so damn short he almost had to trot to keep up with the swordsman's stride. He cursed under his breath.

"What?" Itachi said, hearing the muttered curse.

"Nothing," Kisame growled, running a hand through his hair and wishing he still owned a hat. The Earth Country they were heading towards was almost as barren as the Wind... there was little shelter from the elements, especially near Iwagakure. Pain had stopped providing him with hats after he had wrecked enough of them in battle. He was on one of his last robes too... he had a tendency to either rip them on Samehada's spines or lose them in the tidal waves of his jutsu. It wasn't his fault his fighting style was... _intense_. Not everyone had the ability to end a battle just by staring at their opponents.

"You've been in a bad mood ever since we left this morning," Itachi stated, shooting the swordsman an unreadable look. "What's your problem?"

Kisame shrugged. He wasn't used to Itachi asking him how he felt... it gave him a twinge of anxiety for some reason. "I'm just a little tired," he said.

"You're lying," Itachi calmly replied.

The swordsman scowled and narrowed his eyes. "Are you using your fuckin' sharingan on me?" he growled, bristling at the thought.

"No," his partner said. "I can just tell when you're pissed off."

"Well it's nothing," Kisame stated flatly. "Drop it."

Itachi didn't sigh, shrug or express any emotion whatsoever. He merely kept walking as if the conversation had never taken place. Kisame found himself even more irritated than before, half-wishing the Uchiha would keep prying - at least give him the _illusion _that he cared.

X X X

Deidara was so exhausted that the shadowy forest around him seemed to waver like an illusion... day had passed uneventfully into night and Sasori hadn't stopped for a single break. The blonde was beginning to stumble over roots and rocks, his eyes half-lidded, but the puppetmaster showed no signs that he gave a shit. Finally Deidara cursed wearily and sat himself down at the base of a tree.

"I need to rest, asshole," he murmured, drawing up his knees. "Sorry I'm fuckin' human." His hat slid off as he rested his head in his arms, landing next to him on the ground.

Sasori's impatience was so intense it was nearly tangible, but the blonde was too tired to care. Even when his partner growled a threat, the words merely drifted into nothingness as he quickly fell asleep.

Just as he was having a great dream about Kisame sucking his cock, he was jolted awake by a shock of pain and a loud ripping sound. His hands shot out before his eyes even focused, grabbing something cold, and after blinking a few times he realized it was Sasori's neck. The redhead had shed Hiruko, apparently to sneak up more quietly, and he was holding a square bandage in his hand.

"What the fuck!" the blonde panted, furious. He let go of the puppetmaster's neck, knowing it was useless to try and strangle him, and clamped a hand over the revealed bite mark. The effort was obviously too little, too late, though - he could tell just by the shocked expression on Sasori's face that the secret was out. As far as he could recall, he'd never seen his partner look shocked before.

"That's not from an arrow," the puppetmaster blandly stated, gazing at Deidara's hand as if he could see right through it to the wound. His eyes drifted eerily up to meet the blonde's glare, making him recoil a bit and press his back up against the tree. "That's from Kisame, isn't it?" he asked, his voice unreadable.

"You're an asshole, Sasori," Deidara growled, averting his eyes. "Why do you have to be so damn nosy?" His breath hitched when the puppetmaster's cold fingers encircled his wrist and pulled his hand away, overpowering his brief struggle with frightening ease. The blonde winced, his heart racing, as Sasori leaned in and inspected the wound more closely.

"Did Kisame force himself on you?" the redhead asked.

"What? No!" Deidara snarled vehemently. "What the fuck, Sasori?" When his partner's facial expression didn't change, he cursed lividly and said, "it was consentual, okay?"

Sasori snorted. "Sorry if I don't believe you," he said. His face softened slightly. "You can tell me the truth," he prodded.

"Holy shit, why is that so hard to believe?" Deidara huffed, exasperated. He winced again when Sasori touched the wound, running his fingertips over the scabs. "I was the one who came onto him," he stammered, his face hot. He uselessly tried to back up again, his heels scraping in the dirt, but the redhead ignored his efforts.

"That can't be true," Sasori stated, his voice serene and soothing as if he was talking to a crazy person. His fingers slid up from the bite mark, lightly grazing over Deidara's jawline.

"What the hell are you doing?" Deidara hissed. "Get the fuck off me!" He tried to jerk his head out of Sasori's grasp but the redhead's fingers clamped mechanically over his jaw, threatening to snap the bones like brittle twigs. A knot of fear clenched in his gut - he had never realized that Sasori's innocent-looking puppet body held so much strength.

"What the hell are _you _doing?" Sasori snapped. Suddenly his face was cold and frighteningly inhuman. "The second you get a mission with someone else you just spread your fuckin' legs?" The grip tightened on Deidara's jaw, making him yelp in pain. "If you had said it was rape I would have believed you... but apparently you're a _whore _on top of being a shitty artist."

"Fuck you," Deidara seethed through clenched teeth. He reached for his clay but the cord whipped out of Sasori's stomach cavity, lashing his hands behind his back in a split second. Panic creeped into the blonde's mind, making his heart pound in his chest and his breath come in shallow gasps. The puppetmaster had treated him as little more than a nuisance ever since they'd become partners, and now the asshole was jealous? Out of all the possible reactions Deidara had expected, this most certainly wasn't one of them.

"You'd be more useful as a puppet," Sasori growled, twisting the blonde's head to the side in his vice-like grip as if examining it. "Then at least you wouldn't act like a fuckin' _slut_."

"Oh what, so you could have weird... _doll _sex with me?" Deidara snarled. "Freak." He shivered when he felt the cord extend, sliding over his wrists as it slithered around to his neck. The metal point fastened to the end grazed over his throat, dripping poison. He had to suppress an animalistic urge to struggle - one tiny cut would almost certainly be fatal.

"Is that all I am to you?" Sasori growled. "A freak?" He let go of the blonde's jaw but kept the point pressed to his throat. "Kisame's _blue_, for crying out loud," he snarled.

Deidara strained at the cord binding his wrists, scowling. "At least he's still human," he panted. "He's _normal _compared to you."

Sasori narrowed his eyes slightly, then methodically began to unbutton the snaps on Deidara's jacket. "I'm still human, too," he stated, his face expressionless as he worked his way down. "Can't you see that?"

"No," Deidara huffed, blushing fiercely. "There's nothing human about you."

"Yes there is," Sasori stated. When he'd unbuttoned all the snaps, he slid the jacket off Deidara's shoulders, his fingers running down the blonde's bare arms as the garment fell to his bound wrists. The younger man's breath hitched and a shiver prickled down his spine, goosebumps rising on his skin in the wake of the redhead's cold touch. "I still feel emotion," Sasori murmured. "Jealousy, anger... lust..." He trailed off, seemingly unable to think of any more.

Deidara would have rolled his eyes if he wasn't so distraught. Apparently emotions like affection and empathy were no longer on the list of Sasori's 'human' qualities... and the mention of lust made him struggle with renewed vigor at his binds. It was painfully clear that the redhead intended to rape him, somehow - he wasn't sure if the puppetmaster even had a dick.

His thoughts flickered briefly to Kisame and a wave of despair hit him so hard it immediately made his eyes well up with tears. He stared sullenly off into the forest, trying not to blink. He had never felt so alone in all his life.

X X X

Kisame stared up at the stars, laying on his back and feeling oddly alone. He hadn't felt lonely in years - a decade at least - and the strange emotion left him feeling hollow and bitter. Sleep wouldn't come to him, even though he was exhausted, and Samehada's reassuring presence at his side was barely a consolation. He glanced over at Itachi - his partner was leaned back against a boulder, eyes closed... he appeared to meditating rather than sleeping.

He sighed and looked back up at the sky. They had crossed over into Pain's territory... he could see Amegakure's signature cloud cover on the horizon. The forest had abruptly ended when they crossed over from the Land of Rivers and the open, grassy plains that now surrounded him just seemed to magnify his loneliness. He wondered for the millionth time what Deidara was doing, hoping the blonde was alright. It was a constant, nagging worry in the back of his mind.

_Deidara's fine,_ he told himself, wincing inwardly at how ridiculously distraught he was. _He's strong enough to take care of himself._

X X X

Deidara wished dearly that he was strong enough to break free of Sasori's binds - the puppetmaster had wrapped the cord around his body several times, pinning him tightly to the tree to stop him from struggling. One loop of cord was lashed over his neck, making it hard to breathe. He cursed hoarsely, unable to stop the tears from running down his cheeks. _What the hell did I do to deserve this? _he kept asking himself. The question repeated obsessively in his mind and he just couldn't think of an answer.

"Damnit Deidara, stop crying," Sasori growled as he unbuckled the blonde's belt. "It's _ugly_."

"Fuck you," Deidara sobbed. He kicked the redhead again, so hard it hurt his already sore foot. Sasori shot him an annoyed glare, predictably unaffected by the blow.

"Kick me one more time and I'll break your fuckin' ankle," he hissed. He tugged off Deidara's pants, only bothering to strip off one pant leg completely so he could spread the blonde's legs. Deidara clamped his eyes shut, a violent shudder running through his body, as Sasori paused and stared emotionlessly at his exposed cock. The humiliating moment seemed to drag on forever, making him feel like a specimen under a microscope - no more than data for some kind of perverted experiment.

When the redhead's cold fingers finally touched his limp shaft, the blonde tensed and shivered, biting his lip to stop himself from crying out. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes and saw that Sasori was still gazing calmly at his cock as he lightly stroked it. He also saw a bulge in the puppetmaster's pants - shocked, he had to blink a few times and do a double-take.

"You have a dick?" he blurted, unable to prevent the words from spilling out of his mouth.

Sasori looked at the blonde as if he had said something stupid. "Of course I do," he said dryly. "This is my body, even though it's... _altered_. Why the hell would I cut off my dick?"

Deidara shrugged, blushing... Sasori had made him feel idiotic for even asking. "None of your puppets have dicks," he muttered.

"It's pointless for a puppet to have a..." Sasori started to say before abruptly cutting himself off. "You know what, just stop _talking!_" he snapped. Scowling, he clutched his forehead as if he had a headache before eventually returning his attentions to the younger man's cock. His fingers ran over the shaft a few times, running another chill down the blonde's spine, then moved up to the tip, rubbing it lightly. Deidara cursed and tried to clamp his legs together but Sasori was too close now - it just resulted with his thighs clenching the puppetmaster's hips, making the situation seem even more sexual. Sighing, he forced his legs to relax and averted his eyes. A small part of him yearned for Kisame again but he pushed the thought away... wanting the swordsman at this point just seemed blasphemous.

A groan escaped his lips as Sasori's cold, dexterous fingers wrapped around his shaft and began to jerk it off, sliding up and down with a calculated, almost mechanical rhythm. He squirmed, the muscles in his legs tensing uselessly... pinpricks of warmth began to spread through his senses, making his mind reel in frustration as his body betrayed him. His gaze gravitated back as if magnetized - all he could do was watch in horror, disgusted with himself, as his cock grew stiff in the puppetmaster's hand. More tears spilled out of his eyes - he almost wished Sasori would just kill him and spare him the humiliation.

"Why the fuck are you doing this?" he moaned, his voice weak.

Sasori sighed in frustation. "I thought I told you to stop talking," he growled. "Don't you realize how annoying you are?" He clenched Deidara's cock a little tighter and quickened his pace, making the blonde gasp and buck his hips despite himself.

"If I'm so annoying, just leave me the hell alone," Deidara panted raggedly. As much as he wanted to look away, he just couldn't pull his eyes off the redhead's slender, porcelain pale fingers gripping his shaft and the flawless beauty of that young, deceptively innocent face. A small part of him wanted the puppetmaster to lick the head with his perfect, fake tongue... but the rest of him was absolutely miserable, drenched in self loathing. He struggled against his binds again, knowing it was useless.

Sasori's grey eyes calmly watched Deidara's pathetic fit, their emotion unreadable, as his hand bobbed up and down. The puppetmaster's fingers felt slick against his shaft and it took the blonde a moment to realize that the lubrication was his own precum. He cursed loudly, his face hot - he couldn't believe he was already so close to orgasm. Sasori's hand moved faster, his precise motions perfectly in sync with the blonde's arousal... he was better at it that Deidara was when he masturbated, reading his senses like they were just a simple math equation.

"Fuck you, Sasori," he moaned breathlessly. His body had completely stopped listening to his mind, writhing and squirming whorishly under the redhead's ministrations. When Sasori bent over and licked the head of his cock, he bit his lip hard to muffle a groan - he wondered briefly if the puppetmaster could read his mind. As Sasori's pink tongue swirled around the head, his hand never lost a beat. Deidara's teeth dug harder into his lip - he didn't want to give the bastard the satisfaction of making him cum, but at this point it seemed inevitable. When the redhead took the head into his mouth, the blonde swore fiercely, fighting the warmth building in his groin with every once of willpower he posessed. All his efforts were futile in the end... mere moments later he came, his head spinning as he spilled his seed into the puppetmaster's mouth with a few spasmodic jerks of his hips. Sasori's expression was colder than ever as he patiently kept the blonde's cock in his mouth until he was drained. When Deidara's cock finally began to go limp, he sat up and kissed the blonde on the mouth, feeding him his own cum. Deidara moaned pathetically, too spent to resist. He had fantasized about a guy doing this to him before but now it only amplified his shame. When their lips parted, Sasori's cheek was wet with the blonde's tears.

"Damnit, Deidara..." the redhead growled, wiping his face with the back of his hand. "Why are you still crying?" His cock was insanely hard, pressing up against the blonde's stomach through his pants.

Deidara tried to say 'fuck you' but all that came out was a choked-up sob. He had already betrayed Kisame... it hadn't even been a full day. As the heat of orgasm left him, his despair was so great that even the looming reality of Sasori about to fuck him paled in comparison. Nothing could possibly make him feel any worse. Quiet sobs wracked his body, beyond his control.

Sasori cursed under his breath, his large, grey eyes completely blank of emotion. "I just don't get it," he stated quietly. A few moments passed in which the puppetmaster was completely still... he looked more doll-like than Deidara had ever seen him. Finally, he cursed again and retracted the cord - it barely made a sound as it coiled back up within his stomach cavity.

Baffled, Deidara silently watched the puppetmaster rise to his feet. The redhead glared at him, a touch of frustration visible in the hard set of his jaw.

"I can't do this," he growled. "It's too fuckin' sad." He ran a hand through his hair and looked off to the side. "I'm not a monster," he muttered. And then he walked away, disappearing into the forest's shadows.


	6. Chapter 6

It took Deidara a long time to finally stop crying - he cried while he put his pants back on, he cried as he re-buttoned his jacket, and then he drew his knees up to his chest and cried some more, sniffling into the folds of his sleeve. By the time he finally stopped, his sleeve was soaked with tears and his eyes were irritated and puffy. He felt like a pussy for being so emotional... but on the other hand, nothing like this had ever happened to him before. He didn't even know what to call it - was getting jerked off against your will considered rape? Trying to put words to the way it had felt was frustrating and upsetting.

He looked over at Hiruko's empty shell, half-hidden in the shadows. The puppet's head rested in the dirt and its glaring eyes stared off into nowhere... the ugly thing almost looked sad. Sasori had never abandonned any of his puppets out in the open before - it just proved how flustered the redhead had been when he'd taken off.

Deidara cursed softly, his mind a mess. The whole shitty scenario had been like a nightmare - fleeting, terrifying, and utterly nonsensical. Yet the most confusing part had been at the end, when Sasori had decided to stop. After what had happened, it was hard to fathom that the puppetmaster had even an ounce of humanity in him, but it was undeniable that he had felt _something_. Pity? Guilt? Or maybe the asshole was just turned off by crying.

Whatever the reason, Deidara's ass had somehow been spared from getting fucked. He supposed he should be relieved.

The blonde stayed up for quite some time, peering edgily into the forest's shadows for Sasori's slight form... but the puppetmaster didn't come back. Finally, he was too tired to keep his eyes open so he shoved one hand into a pouch of clay as a precaution and quickly fell asleep.

X X X

After a night of fitful, uneasy sleep, he woke up to almost the exact same scene he had fallen asleep to. Hiroko was still in the same spot, but now the puppet was glaring at him and swishing its scorpion-like tail from side to side. _So Sasori finally came back,_ he noted, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He wondered briefly what a normal person's reaction would be upon waking up to such a sight. They'd probably run screaming in terror. But Deidara merely shifted his hand in his pouch of clay, chewing some up in his palm.

"It's late," Sasori stated. "Let's go."

_Oh, great,_ Deidara thought, sighing and rising to his feet. _He's trying to pretend like nothing happened._ His hand spat out the clay, which he quickly molded into a handful of C1 bombs. Scowling, he chucked them at the puppetmaster and detonated them. When the smoke dissipated, Hiroko's boulder-like bulk was gone, a lump of sand in its place. Just as he'd expected, the puppet had been a clone... he knew Sasori's tactics like the back of his hand. After all, the two had sparred more times than he could count.

"Deidara, stop wasting time," Sasori growled. Deidara looked up to find the redhead in his true form, perched on a treebranch. "We're supposed to kill the marks at a specific time and place..." the puppetmaster stated. "So knock it off. We're already behind schedule."

Deidara cursed under his breath, his hand poised over his pouch of clay. "Don't you have anything _else _to say?" he snarled.

Sasori didn't move from his spot on the treelimb. "What do you want me say?" he asked, his unwavering grey eyes locked on the blonde's. "That I'm sorry for jerking you off?"

Deidara's face felt hot with anger. "Yes!" he yelled. "You practically _raped _me!"

Sasori shrugged. "All I did was give you an orgasm," he said.

"You should have just left me the hell alone," Deidara snarled. He spit at the redhead even though he was too far away to hit.

Sasori's eyes narrowed slightly. "I _did _leave you alone," he said. "I've been leaving you alone ever since we became partners." He sighed and brushed his hair out of his eyes, a sign that he was frustrated. "And this is what I get." Scowling, he gestured toward the blonde. "You go off and fuck... _Kisame_..."

"Don't turn this around on me," Deidara hissed. "You've been treating me like a nuisance ever since we met! How was I supposed to know you were a jealous maniac?"

"I've treated you with nothing but respect," Sasori snapped. "I've been a perfect gentleman this entire time! It's not my fault you pushed me over the edge."

"What?" Deidara exclaimed. He briefly thought of how Kisame had said the same thing... apparently no one in the Akatsuki knew what the word 'gentleman' meant. "You've been an _asshole _this entire time," he huffed.

"I've wanted to fuck you since the moment I laid eyes on you," Sasori bluntly stated. His pale, doll-like face did nothing to emphasize the confession. "And I'm not the only one. Everyone in the Akatsuki wants a piece of you."

Deidara knew he was blushing... his face felt like it was on fire. "What the hell are you talking about?" he stammered.

"Wow, you're even more naive than you look," Sasori sneered. "Haven't you noticed the way everyone stares at you in the meetings? Kakuzu, Hidan, Zetsu... even _Pain_."

"You're being paranoid," Deidara stated, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "In those meetings, there's nothing to do but stare at eachother." He had only been linked to the Gedo statue recently... he still couldn't get over the way everyone materialized as a hypnotizing, rainbow hologram. Grudgingly, he admitted to himself that his comrades' eyes were the last thing he noticed. "You're fucking paranoid," he repeated sourly.

"I've been practically fighting them off since you joined," Sasori replied. "If it wasn't for me, you'd have been raped so many times by now you wouldn't even know which way was up."

Deidara crossed his arms, glaring up at his partner. "You are _so _full of shit," he growled. "Don't make yourself out to be the hero here. If you were so bent on defending me, you wouldn't have fuckin' _molested _me." He cursed under his breath, enraged. "I'm not leaving here until you apologize," he stated.

Sasori finally jumped down from the tree, landing silently a few feet away. "Fine," he said. "I _apologize_." Nothing about the statement sounded sincere. "And the next time someone wants to rape you, I'll tell them to go right ahead."

"I can take care of myself," Deidara muttered.

A smirk slid over Sasori's lips. "Sure you can," he sneered. He began to walk off in the direction they were supposed to go. "Or maybe _Kisame _will magically appear to defend you." He laughed outloud, a sound Deidara wasn't sure he'd ever heard the puppetmaster make.

"Screw you, Sasori," he hissed, reluctantly following the redhead.

"That's a bad choice of words," Sasori mused.

X X X

It took about four days for Kisame and Itachi to reach their destination in the Land of Earth. The terrain had become more and more sparse until finally there was nothing surrounding them but rock formations and an occasional scraggling plant. The swordsman couldn't begin to fathom why the hell anyone would want to live out here.

Itachi was looking around, a scroll unfurled in his hands. "According to this intel, Kurotsuchi and Akatsuchi are training nearby," he stated. "I guess it's an Iwa tradition to train in the elements. That's lucky for us... because getting inside the village boundaries would be nearly impossible."

"Yeah," Kisame muttered. "Lucky."

Itachi sighed and shot the swordsman a weary look. "Could you possibly care any less about this mission?" he said.

"Nope," Kisame dryly responded. "You know I hate spying. Do you really think I'm just going to suddenly change my mind after all these years?"

Itachi sighed again and shrugged. "It would be nice," he said. "You've been a dick ever since we left."

"Well... too bad," Kisame growled. He shifted Samehada on his back, scowling. "Come on, let's get this shit over with." The sword had been increasingly restless as they walked, letting him know there was a considerable amount of chakra nearby. "They're that way," he stated, pointing east toward a rock formation a few miles away. He started walking in said direction but Itachi stopped him with a glare.

"We wait for nightfall," his partner said. "They're not sensory types... but they're also not _blind_."

Kisame took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. "Motherfucker," he sighed.

"Me or the mission?" Itachi growled.

Kisame didn't respond, afraid of what he might say.

X X X

They waited in a small cave, sipping on their waning supply of water and staring dully out at the barren scenery until the sun finally sank below the horizon. Once the darkness was sufficient to cloak their movements, they approached their targets as little more than flickers against the night sky, sliding from shadow to shadow with a practiced ease that surpassed even the Black Ops. As much as Kisame hated spying, there was a reason he and Itachi always got these assignments - they were _good _at it.

When they were in closer, they turned to hand signals, as even a whisper could carry if the wind was blowing just right. Their movements were absolutely silent as they climbed a steep rockface and peered cautiously over the summit. _There they are, _Kisame signaled, rather unnecessarily. Kurotsuchi and Akatsuchi were sitting around a small fire in the canyon, chatting away and sharing a bottle of sake. Usually they had to read lips from such a distance - Itachi's sharingan made him an expert and Kisame was also fairly proficient - but the cliff faces served as an ampitheatre to their already loud, drunken voices.

_Training, my ass..._ Kisame mused. _These two obviously lied to get out of the village and party._ The situation couldn't have possibly been any luckier for a spy. People said shit they were supposed to keep secret when they were drunk, not to mention the fact that their senses were dulled. Two experts in steath hiding in the shadows had virtually no chance of being caught.

A grin slid over Kisame's lips. As much as he hated spying, he couldn't deny that this was a rare opportunity. _It might even get interesting,_ he thought, reflecting on what Deidara had told him. He laid himself down amongst the rocks and perked up his ears, tuning in to the conversation.

"...Such a drag," Kurotsuchi was saying. The girl was slender, almost androgenous, with large, slanted eyes similar to Deidara's and a boyish, cropped haircut. _ I can see why Deidara got with her, _Kisame admitted. If he hadn't known from the intel that she was female, he might have mistaken her for an effeminate man.

"It's not so bad," Akatsuchi replied. _This guy's huge, _Kisame marveled, staring at the man's unnatural bulk and strange, puffy features. His blithe expression reminded the swordsman of an infant. _ Is he retarded? _he wondered.

"Stop acting so happy," Kurotsuchi huffed, taking a slam of sake. "It's been miserable ever since that day! The old fart is even grumpier than before, the explosion corps _suck_, and I..." She trailed off listlessly, staring into the fire.

_The explosion corps?_ Kisame brooded. _Wasn't that..._

"I know it's hard," Akatsuchi said. "But... uh... shit happens, you know?" He reached for the bottle but Kurotsuchi scowled and clutched it possessively to her breast.

"Shit happens?" she snapped. She took another messy slam of sake, spilling some of it down her chin. "This wasn't supposed to happen!" she seethed, nearly screaming. "I was gonna _marry _that bastard some day! DEIDARA, YOU PRICK!" Her voice echoed off the cliff walls, so loud it almost could have caused a cave-in.

Kisame grimaced, his ears ringing. _Wow, Deidara broke a girl's heart,_ he mused. _ Doesn't this bitch know he's gay?_ But as much as he was enjoying the conversation, he was a little disappointed. The mission was to gather _important _information.

Akatsuchi finally managed to pry to the bottle out Kurotsuchi's hands. "It just wasn't meant to be," he said simply. He took a sip and added, "You'll find the right man someday."

Kurotsuchi sighed dramatically. "Oh, sure," she muttered. "Maybe I'll find a man as pretty as Deidara who's _not _gay."

_Oh_, Kisame thought. _Guess she knows after all._

"Gay and friggin' obsessed with some guy's stupid picture in a bingo book," she added bitterly.

_Oh shit,_ Kisame fretted, his blood suddenly running cold. He bit his lip and narrowed his eyes. _Stop talking, bitch,_ he thought frantically.

"Oh yah," Akatsuchi replied. "Didn't he steal it from a black-ops member? How do you even _do _that?"

_I knew Deidara was lying about that_, Kisame brooded. _Come on, change the fucking topic..._

"He probably sucked a dick to get it," Kurotsuchi snarled. "But remember? He ripped out the page and hung it on his wall. He kept saying 'someday I'm gonna fight that guy,'... but once in a while he'd slip up and confuse the word 'fight' with 'fuck'. Pathetic!"

"Yah, it was _weird_," Akatsuchi muttered. "What was the guy's name? All I remember was that his last name was some kind of food."

_Oh, for crying out loud!_ Kisame panicked, his nails digging into his palms. _Why the hell is this happening?_

"How can you forget it?" Kurotsuchi huffed. "The freak is infamous." She stared at her friend for a minute, apparently astonished by his stupidity, then leaned back on her hands and sighed. "The monster of the Hidden Mist? The tail-less biju?" she prodded. Met with Akatsuchi's bland stare, she cursed and shouted, "_Kisame Hoshigaki,_ you dumbass!"

"Oh, right..." Akatsuchi chirped. "Dried persimmon..."

The swordsman had to bite his lip even harder to stop himself from swearing outloud. He hung his head, vehemently cursing his shitty luck. _What are the chances?_ he lamented. _Really... what are the fuckin' chances?_ Reluctantly, he looked over to find Itachi glaring coldly at him. As much as he wanted to shrug and play dumb, he knew it wouldn't do any good - his partner could always tell when he was lying.

For a while they just glared at eachother, the conversation in the canyon fading to an echoing buzz. Itachi narrowed his eyes slightly, betraying his anger. 'Can you read my lips?' he mouthed.

'Of course,' Kisame silently responded.

'You're an _asshole_.' The last word was emphasized with as much expression as silence would allow.

Kisame rolled his eyes, embarrassed. 'We'll talk about this later,' he mouthed. For a second he had a difficult time pulling his eyes away from Itachi's - it wasn't a genjutsu... his partner's glare was just _intense_. Finally he managed to look away and refocus on the conversation.

"Well, you can't be mad at Deidara forever," Akatsuchi was saying. "He was just doing what he felt he had to do. He was miserable here."

"I don't know if 'miserable' is the right word," Kurotsuchi said. She was holding the bottle again - it appeared as though she wasn't very good at sharing its contents. "He was just... too _crazy _to fit in. Always ranting about the true meaning of art..."

"He was... _is_... a good artist," Akatsuchi added.

"Ha!" Kurotsuchi snorted. "You didn't see him after he learned that kinjutsu. Now his sculptures move around like living creatures and _explode_."

"Yeah, I know," Akatsuchi sighed. "You've told me that about a million times."

There was a long silence after that... the two just stared into the fire, reflecting. They both looked sad, like Deidara was a hole in their lives that they didn't know how to fill up. Kisame never would have imagined that the blonde had severed such strong bonds - he talked about Iwa like it was no more than a bad taste in his mouth.

Kurotsuchi took another slam of sake and swirled around the remainder in the bottle. "I just miss him," she murmured. "If only I could see him one more time..."

"You never know," Akatsuchi soothed. "He might show back up one of these days."

"If he does, gramps'll kill him," Kurotsuchi bluntly stated. She sighed and looked up at the sky, her gaze disconcertingly close to the two spies' hiding spot. "I just hope he's alright, wherever he is," she said. To Akatsuchi's visible dismay, she finished off the sake then held the bottle up. "Here's to you, Deidara!" she called out loudly. "Happy eighteenth birthday!"

Kisame's heart stopped and he bit his tongue in his shock. _You've got to be kidding me, _he fretted, his mind racing. _That means he was only seventeen when we..._ Of all the terrible things he'd done in the past, screwing a minor had never been on the list. He'd thought Deidara was at _least _twenty... but then again he'd never asked. Being underage was something you were supposed to tell a guy beforehand, wasn't it?

When Kurotsuchi threw the bottle at the cliff, the sound of the glass breaking matched the shattering in Kisame's mind perfectly.

"Happy birthday, Deidara," Akatsuchi echoed. "I wonder if he even remembered it was his birthday..."

"Who knows," Kurotsuchi sighed. "He's probably too busy _shark-hunting_ to be aware of much else. And anyway, we're celebrating a little late... his birthday was over a week ago."

Kisame rolled his eyes and clutched his forehead. _So he was eighteen?_ he brooded, too miffed to be relieved. He wished these two idiots would talk more clearly... listening to this conversation had almost given him a heart-attack twice. _Screw the mission... if there's any more surprises, I'm gonna kill them both, _he thought crossly.

For the next half-hour or so, Kisame was too pissed off to pay close attention to the conversation. Not like it mattered... the few fragments he caught were 'Deidara this' and 'Deidara that.' Birthday celebration or not, these two seriously needed to get a life. The whole while, he could feel Itachi's furious presence at his side - even Samehada, who was used to the Uchiha's presence, was bristling defensively. When the conversation below finally shifted to something that sounded important, he sighed quietly in relief.

"...Just don't think it's necessary to hire them," Kurotsuchi was saying. She was laying on her back, her eyes half-closed. "Gramps always underestimates Iwa's strength."

"Not to mention it's wrong," Akatsuchi chimed in drowsily. "The Akatsuki are... _bad _guys."

Kurotsuchi laughed outloud, the sound sharp and harsh in the echoing cavern. "The Akatsuki are hired mercenaries, not bad guys," she stated. "You have to stop thinking in terms of good and evil. It's childish."

"Having a sense of right and wrong isn't childish," Akatsuchi repied sorely. "And the Akatsuki can't be trusted, regardless. I think it's a risky decision."

"Of course it is," Kurotsuchi sighed. "I agree with you. But gramps is smart... he wouldn't have made the offer if he thought it would endanger the village." She closed her eyes. "It's just... _embarrassing_, having to rely on shady organizations to do our dirty work."

"We should be killing off the Akatsuki, not giving them money," Akatsuchi growled.

"Yeah, yeah," Kurotsuchi murmured. "There you go again. You're not killing anyone, alright? Just let the old man do what he's gotta do..."

"He's going to regret it some day, just you wait," Akatsuchi huffed. When his friend didn't respond, he curiously leaned in closer. "Hey, Kuro..." he murmured. He gave her shoulder a poke - she cursed something incomprehensible and sluggishly batted his hand away. It was obvious she'd passed out. "Well, goodnight, I guess," he muttered. He laid himself down a respectable distance away and followed her example, quickly falling asleep by the warmth of the fire.

Kisame shivered and cursed under his breath. The night air had become bitterly cold and the wind was cutting through to his bones. He looked over at Itachi, who was clamping his mouth shut so his teeth wouldn't chatter. _Let's go,_ he signaled. Itachi's response was an icy glare... but when the swordsman began to descend the steep cliff, he followed closely behind.

They retreated to the same cave they'd been hiding out in earlier, moving quickly to fight off the cold. Once they were finally out of the wind, they spent a while shivering miserably and glaring at eachother before putting forth the effort of an argument. It was the wrong time of year for a cold snap like this but neither man was surprised - they always had bad luck on spying missions, in one form or another.

"Why did you lie to me?" Itachi's voice cut sharply through the cold, startling the swordsman from a chain of dreary thoughts.

"Damnit..." Kisame sighed. He didn't want to have this conversation. "I didn't lie to you. I just failed to mention it." He cursed and removed Samehada from his back, resting it across his legs. "And what exactly am I confessing to anyway? Just because Deidara has a weird obsession with me doesn't mean anything happened." _And why the hell do you care anyway? _he thought to himself.

"But it did," Itachi stated, his red eyes unwavering. "You two fucked. It's written all over your face."

"Fine," Kisame growled. "You got me. I fucked Deidara, okay? I was trying to keep it a secret but obviously the world is working against me." He leaned back against the cave wall and took a deep breath, trying not to get angry. His hands absently stroked Samehada through its binds - the sword was bristling with anxiety.

"You're a fuckin' hypocrite," Itachi snarled. It was rare for the Uchiha to curse.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Kisame muttered, shifting uncomfortably. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

"Don't play stupid," Itachi growled, narrowing his eyes. "All those years ago, when we had that fight-"

"Oh, when you _mind-fucked _me for picking on you?" Kisame snapped. "Don't even bring that bullshit up, Itachi!" Suddenly he was furious - the rage set off in his mind like a time bomb. Spikes violently burst through Samehada's binding as the weapon reacted to his turbulent chakra. "We agreed not to talk about it, remember?" he seethed through clenched teeth.

Itachi sighed but he didn't divert his glare. "All those years ago..." he said, "...you were making fun of me because I'm _gay_." His eyes burned through the darkness like two hot coals. "And now I find out that you..." He trailed off, apparently too angry to finish.

Kisame blinked, trying to make sense of what his partner had just said. "You... think I was picking on you because..." he started. His blood was boiling and his mind felt like it was on fire. "You cut my dick off in your Tsukiyomi because..." He clutched his head in his hand, trying desperately to cling onto his waning shreds of self-control. "...Because of a _misunderstanding?_"

It was over. He was seeing red.

His vision was a blur as he lunged at Itachi, his jagged teeth bared in a feral snarl. He had no control over his body as he pinned the younger man beneath him and punched him, hard, in the face. "You _bastard!_" he heard himself saying, over and over. Itachi was so shocked that he suffered a few more blows before finally capturing the swordsman's fist in both hands, using all his might to slow it to a halt. Kisame cursed profanely, blindly trying to force his fist down to its target.

"Stop it, Kisame," Itachi panted, struggling against the swordsman's superior strength. Finally he managed to divert the punch - Kisame's fist hit the cave floor next to the younger man's head, cracking the stone with the impact. The raw pain jolted him out of his stupor... his vision cleared as he watched his own blood seep from his busted knuckles into the stone's spiderweb cracks.

"Damnit," he heaved breathlessly. He shook his head and blinked a few times as his sanity reluctantly returned. Itachi's face was a mess... blood was trickling steadily out of his mouth and nose, and the corner of his left eye was as crimson as his sharingan. Dizzily, he looked to the side and saw Samehada bristling in an aggressive coil with its teeth bared - the sword was ready to kill on command. He cursed, taking slow, deep breaths to slow his racing heartbeat.

Itachi turned his head and spit out a mess of blood - a shattered piece of tooth came out with it. When he looked back up at the swordsman, there was a wet sheen on his eyes. Time seemed to freeze as the two just stared at eachother, too embroiled in their own thoughts to find words.

"Kisame..." Itachi said haltingly. A tear slid down his cheek when he finally blinked.

"I'm sorry," Kisame muttered, averting his eyes. He had never seen Itachi shed a tear that wasn't blood. Guilt replaced his rage, making him cringe. "I didn't mean to-"

"Stop," Itachi murmured. Tentatively, he reached up and touched the swordsman's face, his fingers running lightly over the hard planes of his jawline.

"What are you doing?" Kisame stammered, his face hot. He tried to pull away but Itachi grabbed his arm, holding him in place.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Itachi said, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers crept under the swordsman's headband, gently sliding it off - it landed with a clang on the stone floor.

Kisame's mouth opened then shut as he floundered for words. "You're bleeding," he finally stated, too shocked to form anything more complex in his mind. He grabbed a piece of Samehada's shredded binding and mechanically wiped the blood off his partner's face, trying to ignore the slender fingers that were now running languidly through his hair. When he discarded the rag, Itachi was blushing fiercely and biting his lip - he looked incredibly vulnerable, as if he might shatter like glass.

"Kisame... I'm so sorry," Itachi breathed. He softly pulled the swordsman's hair, drawing him in closer. Kisame's mind was a whirlwind of panic and confusion, every ounce of his willpower telling him to resist, but his body was compliant, almost eager, as their lips met.


	7. Chapter 7

Warning - I don't want to spoil the plot here, but be warned that there's some very fucked-up, non-consentual shit in here... and the shit happens to Kisame. So if that grosses you out or offends you, which I'm sure it might, don't read this.

"Damnit, Itachi... what are you _doing?_" Kisame panted. He had finally managed to pull away from his partner's lips, but it had been difficult. Itachi was an incredibly good kisser, surprisingly aggressive, and Kisame had found himself submitting to it for a while before conjuring up the willpower to resist. He pried the Uchiha's hands off his body, trying not to be rough in his haste, and hit his head on the cave's low ceiling as he stumbled to his feet. The cramped space brought on a pang of claustrophobia - everything, including Itachi, was just too _close_.

Itachi sighed and struggled to a sitting position, his fever-red eyes half-lidded. "Calm down," he murmured, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Don't act so _traumatized_."

"Seriously?" Kisame snapped. "Everything about this situation is fuckin' traumatic! How did you expect me to react?" He tried to back up but was met with yet another bump on the head. Breathing raggedly, he sank to a crouch and fought back another wave of claustrophobia - the urge to bolt toward the cave's exit was nearly overwhelming.

"I don't know," Itachi sighed, shyly drawing his knees up to his chest in what Kisame supposed was an effort to look less intimidating. He diverted his eyes demurely, his long lashes looking bizarrely exaggerated in the murky darkness. "Don't think that this isn't traumatizing for me as well," he meekly added.

"Oh, right," Kisame sneered. "I'm sure it's just _terrifying _to learn that you're an oversensitive piece of shit! You never mentioned that you were gay, you asshole!"

"I thought it was obvious," Itachi replied defensively. "All those bars you used to go to and I never hit on a single woman..."

"Or man, for that matter," Kisame spat. His head hurt from the cave ceiling and his guts felt like they were twisted into an impossible, irreversible knot. "I just assumed you were celebate," he growled. "Or too stuck up to fuck anyone who drank booze."

Itachi's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Well, I just assumed that you were a womanizing homaphobe!" he retorted. "Your whole existance seemed to revolve around sticking your dick into anything with a pair of tits!"

Kisame sighed with exasperation and rubbed his aching head. "Okay, fine... you're right about the last part," he growled. "What I don't understand is why that _bothers _you so much!" He glanced over at Samehada - the weapon had relaxed it spines and no longer seemed to give a shit about the spat. Apparently, gay squabbles weren't on its list of immediate threats. "My uncanny ability to get laid never interfered with our missions," he bitterly added. "And there was never any need for you to hang out in the shadows like a pissed off _wife _while all this happened!"

Itachi's demure attitude was beginning to slip - Kisame could see that hint of near-insane rage fickering just beneath his doll-like expression. "There _was _a need," the Uchiha hissed, tensed up to the point where he looked more like a coiled snake than a passive non-threat hugging his knees. "I... I _killed _my last lover! And when I met you... I thought that..." He flinched, or maybe it was a shudder... Kisame couldn't tell in the darkness. "I thought that maybe we could..." His voice trailed off.

A few minutes passed in complete silence, save the sound of the wind howling fitfully outside the cave. The cold was setting in deeper as the night progressed, sinking into Kisame's flesh even with the protection of his cloak and the cave's shelter. _What did you think, Itachi? _he brooded, watching his breath consolidate as he exhaled. _Did you think we could be both lovers *and* partners in the Akatsuki? _He blinked and flexed his cold-stiff hands. _That's just... insane. _He closed his eyes, wishing he could erase the events of the past few hours from his memory. His life was shitty enough as it was - the last thing he needed was a crazy, love-sick Uchiha to worry about. What the hell did Itachi expect from him? He felt horrible - spread too thin and somewhat devastated.

"Kisame..." The swordsman's eyes snapped open to find Itachi right in front of him - startled, he stumbled backward onto his ass, clumsily bumping into the cave wall. He cursed loudly, his voice reverberating through the small space, and it took him a second to realize that something light had settled on his thigh... it was the younger man's hand.

"Get away from me," he growled menacingly. "This," he glared accusingly at Itachi's hand, "isn't going to work." Through narrowed eyes, he dared a quick glance at the Uchiha's face - the younger man's jaw was working as if he was trying to think of something convincing to say.

"I've wanted you ever since we became partners," Itachi finally said. His fingertips were lightly running over Kisame's thigh, a hint of impatience and hunger in their quick movements. "It's been... _agonizing_. Please, just let me-"

"Back the _fuck _off," Kisame snapped. He batted Itachi's hand away and pressed himself tighter against the cave wall. His breathing was becoming quick and shallow and his heart pounded frantically in his chest - he glanced wildly over to the cave exit, wondering if Itachi would try to stop him if he bolted. Unfortunately, the possibility of black flames erupting on his back seemed fairly likely - he had seen that flash of violent rage in the Uchiha's eyes.

Itachi sighed quietly and looked off to the side as if deep in thought. His hand flexed but didn't reach out for Kisame's leg again - apparently he was finally catching on to the fact the the swordsman wasn't about to warm up to him. "Okay... I'm sorry," he finally murmured. The sentence sounded calculated and somewhat forced. "It's just been a long time since I was with anyone." He sat back a little, giving Kisame some space.

"Sell it somewhere else," the swordsman growled, his eyes lowered. "You know that you could have anyone you want."

"Except you, apparently," Itachi softly replied. "For crying out loud... you won't even look me in the eye. Am I that _frightening_?"

Kisame shivered, glaring intently at the cave floor - there was no way in hell he was going to look anywhere near Itachi's eyes at this point. _Frightening is an understatement... I'm terrified of you,_ he thought blackly. "Please just leave me alone," he muttered, trying not to sound as desperate as he felt. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Fine," Itachi murmured... and then he was silent. But instead of retreating, he remained seated in front of Kisame, his stone-still posture suggesting that he was deep in thought again, reworking his scheme. The swordsman sighed and shifted uncomfortably, wondering miserably what was going to happen next. His mind was racing for some kind of solution but there didn't seem to be any - he was painfully aware of the fact that he was no match for Itachi, especially without his sword. He glanced over at Samehada again - the weapon looked like it was snoozing, blissfully unaware of his plight. In conclusion, there wasn't much he could do but sit around and blindly hope that Itachi would decide to leave him alone.

After about a minute of awkward, agonizing silence, the Uchiha shivered and briskly rubbed his hands together. "I'm freezing," he confessed. "Can't even feel my hands."

"Yeah," Kisame sighed, glancing absently at Itachi's pale hands. "We're definitely not dressed for this weather..." Then there was a flicker, a quick motion of the Uchiha's fingers, so discreet it was barely noticeable. Kisame bristled, confused. "Was that a fucking handsign_?_" he growled. Itachi merely shrugged, a telltale smirk curving his lips. "What the _hell_, Itachi?" the swordsman spat, too baffled to know how to react. He wasn't sure if what he'd seen had actually happened... but if his intuition was correct, some sort of terrifying jutsu was about to rip him to shreds. So why wasn't anything _happening_?

And then he felt it. It began as an uncomfortable surge of pinpricks, tingling through his limbs as if they had fallen asleep. He tried to flex his hands and the small movement gave him a jolt of pain. "What the fuck did you do to me?" he hissed - the words came out slurred, as if he'd been punched in the mouth. The sensation steadily increased, changing from a tingle to an itch, from an itch to a burn.

"It's just a genjutsu," Itachi stated, watching the swordsman with poorly restrained excitement. Met with Kisame's incredulous, panicked glare, he added, "I've been trying to learn how to inflict my sharingan just by using handsigns. I wasn't sure if I had it down... but it seems to be working quite well."

"Holy shit, you are such an _asshole_!" Kisame heaved through clenched teeth. What started as a mere prickle had intensified into a painful, searing heat, burning his skin and his joints like the worst fever imaginable. The freezing-cold cave now felt like the inside of an oven and his cloak was practically incinerating him - as much as he'd been hating the chill, this was certainly not an ideal alternative. It was just a few degrees below pure agony. He tried lunging to his feet but the resulting pain was crippling... he only succeeded in banging his head yet again against the cave's jagged wall. The failed effort left him cursing feebly, nearly blind with rage. Even manipulating his chakra hurt - when he tried to disrupt it to counteract the jutsu, it gave his nervous system a jolt like an electric shock.

"As you can probably tell, this is a paralysis genjutsu," Itachi said smugly. "The illusion is purely physical. Out of all the senses, touch is the most difficult to manipulate - it's hard to make it _realistic_. You should be feeling something akin to heat... is it working?"

The verbal abuse Kisame wanted to spout could have constituted a speech but all he could manage was a slurred "fuck you" and a snarl. Something wet trickled down the side of his face - he wondered if that last bump on the head had made him bleed.

"Wow, it _is _working," Itachi marveled. "You're actually perspiring... I've never seen that happen before. Either my abilities are improving or you're _incredibly _susceptible to genjutsu." He reached out and ran his fingers through the swordsman's damp hair, his caress a bit too hungry to be gentle. "It's probably the latter," he said softly. "Brick-headed jocks like you have such weak mental defenses." His fingers sank lower, running over the contours of Kisame's jawline then lightly across his lips. When the swordsman threateningly snapped his teeth, Itachi merely grinned with amusement.

_Brick-headed jock, _Kisame raged. _That's ridiculous... I'll bite his fucking fingers off then stick them up his conceited ass! _A sickening wave of pain shocked him out of his thoughts - it was mostly in his jaw this time, searing the muscles until they felt like they were burning to cinders. He cried out and tried to clamp his mouth shut but found that even a twitch amplified the pain. The sensation was exquisite - he'd undergone plenty of torture in his life and even the worst pain he could remember was nothing compared to this.

"The more you try to resist, the worse it's going to hurt," Itachi explained, as if talking to a child. "I thought that part was obvious but I guess you're too stupid to understand." He ran his fingers over Kisame's lips again, daring this time to slip them briefly into his mouth. The swordsman instinctivly tried to bite down again but the pain left him panting helplessly, his eyes watering. Itachi laughed lightly then bit his lip with anticipation as he probed Kisame's mouth more boldly, running a finger over his jagged teeth before roughly pushing in further. When they reached his throat he felt the reflex to gag but found he couldn't - the tensing of any of his muscles had become nearly impossible. All he could do was glare furiously at his partner as his mouth was callously explored - the intrusion made him feel wretched and subhuman.

"I've always loved your mouth," Itachi said, his face slightly flushed as he finger-fucked Kisame's throat. "It's strangely erotic that you're blue on the outside yet so pink on the inside. And so soft behind all those sharp teeth." He moved in closer, straddling the swordsman's lap. "I bet you give amazing head," he sighed. When he retracted his fingers, he ran his thumb hungrily over Kisame's lips before covering them with his mouth.

Kisame groaned feverishly, burning-hot and furious, as Itachi languidly kissed him, teasing his lips before slipping in his tongue. Another trickle of sweat burned a path down the side of his face, feeling as though it might evaporate against his searing skin. However, common sense reminded him that it was just an illusion - in reality, his body was probably expending what little reserve of heat it had in its confusion. _This genjutsu is dangerous,_ he told himself. _Can't Itachi see that? _Apparently, his partner's years of bizarre, pent-up sexual frustration had culminated into a sadistic need that surmounted empathy. As Itachi aggressively tongue-fucked his mouth, Kisame was hit with a devastating regret that he hadn't been more receptive to the Uchiha's feelings. He should have been able to pick up on something this intense from a mile away - unfortunately, he hadn't even seen it coming until it was too late. _This is almost like the Tsukiyomi he hit me with all those years ago... a misused, pissed-off genjutsu, _he lamented. _I guess history's just doomed to repeat itself._ The realization was heart-breaking.

Itachi finally broke the kiss, breathing quickly. "You feel so good," he gasped. "No wonder Deidara's so enamoured with you." His eyes briefly flashed with an insane, jealous rage as he began to unbutton Kisame's coat, nearly ripping the snaps in his haste. The swordsman gasped and shuddered, his skin prickling, as Itachi wrestled with the cloak, shoving it impatiently down his useless arms. _I'm going to freeze,_ he thought.

"That must feel better," the Uchiha murmured, his gaze roving over Kisame's bare chest. "You look like you're burning up."

_He's lost his mind_, Kisame thought bitterly, wishing he could still use his voice. He winced involuntarily as Itachi's hands ran over his skin, ravenously exploring the contours of his chest and stomach before sinking lower to the waistline of his pants. The contact left a path of stinging prickles in its wake as if he'd been rubbed with nettles and he gasped breathlessly when he felt the younger man's fingers grasp his cock through his pants. Every sensation just seemed to be varying degrees of pain.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," Itachi breathed, running his fingers over the swordsman's shaft. The feeling was bizarre and vague, like someone had injected his dick with a trivial amount of novocaine. At least it didn't hurt as terribly as everything else had - not yet, at least_._ He shuddered when he thought of what had become of his dick in their last heated encounter. But crazy as Itachi was acting, Kisame didn't think he'd go so far as to actually cut it off. He pushed the thought out of his mind before it developed any further.

His mind snapped back to attention when Itachi leaned in and kissed him again, crushing their mouths together as he avidly plunged in his tongue. The hand on his cock started moving up and down with a steady rhythm, sending confused signals of mingled pleasure and pain through his senses. He groaned, the sound muffled against the Uchiha's lips, and when Itachi broke the kiss it left him gasping raggedly, more beads of sweat scalding his skin. His eyes burned and blurred - it took him a second to realize that they were leaking tears. They were watering uncontrollably from the pain... a most humiliating reaction.

Itachi blinked, his eyes half-lidded and feverishly bright. "Looks like you're crying," he murmured, then stroked Kisame's cheek with his thumb. "I've never seen tears on your face before," he sighed. "It's pretty." He kissed the swordsman's cheek in the wake of his thumb then worked his way down, planting a series of possessive bites and kisses along his jawline and neck. The hand on his cock was moving faster now, bobbing up and down the shaft through the fabric of his pants, and Kisame could feel something hard throbbing against his thigh - it was Itachi's erection. He tried to curse but all that came out was a pathetic, desperate growl.

"You're making this jutsu more painful than it has to be," Itachi stated softly, "Although I must confess it's quite erotic to watch you cry." His lips had found their way over to Kisame's bare shoulder - the swordsman growled again and squirmed feebly when his partner's tongue ran over the gill marks. The marks were highly sensitive - Kisame was convinced that somehere in his lineage a shark had somehow fucked a human because contact with the slender ridges left him gasping and dizzy for no tangible reason. With the amplification of the genjutsu, the feel of Itachi's tongue was unbearably intense - it felt like someone was branding his flesh with a hot iron. He had told Itachi in the past that the marks were weirdly sensitive, a confession he was now wishing dearly he had kept to himself. It was agonizing, far too painful to be erotic. When Itachi finally stopped his ministrations, the swordsman was lightheaded and nauseous.

A snort of laughter escaped Itachi's lips, fogging in the frigid air. "You're so pale," he mused. "I didn't even know your skin could _get _pale. It's that one color... what's it called... _periwinkle blue_."

_Periwinkle blue?_ Kisame seethed deleriously. _Fuck you, Itachi. _His thoughts dispersed when the younger man sank lower, trailing his tongue down his chest and stomach before pausing at the waist of his pants. Itachi's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he roughly yanked down the swordsman's pants a little, exposing his cock. Kisame growled, embarrased - he was half-hard, to his partner's obvious delight. The Uchiha laid himself down, pinning the swordsman's legs beneath him, and tentatively grabbed the base of the shaft. He murmured something - a curse, maybe, Kisame couldn't tell - then slowly took the head in his mouth, as if savoring it.

A wave of mixed pleasure and pain prickled through Kisame's senses, making him gasp and shiver. The sensation of Itachi's mouth on his cock was so distorted by the genjutsu that it felt nothing like any oral sex in his experience. The tingling pain was the biggest difference, likening it more to getting fucked than getting head - it was bizarrely intrusive, bordering on unbearable. As his partner's lips slid up and down his shaft, he couldn't even tell if the younger man was any good at it... all he felt was pleasure, pain, and heat. Itachi's free hand had disappeared under his cloak - Kisame could only assume that the Uchiha had begun to jerk himself off.

_I can't believe this shit,_ the swordsman thought frantically, his face on fire. Guilt and humiliation sank like a stone in his gut as he helplessly watched his cock growing harder in Itachi's mouth. He thought briefly of Deidara but quickly forced the image from his mind - the feeling of betrayal was too intense to bear. _For the first time in years something actually made me happy, _he lamented. _Why is Itachi taking that away from me?_ He hadn't done anything to deserve this - to say it was unfair would be a vast oversimplification.

Another growl escaped his lips and his muscles tensed painfully - he reluctantly returned his attention to Itachi, who had managed to cram the entire length down his throat. The younger man was blushing and his eyes were tearing up... in a different situation, it would have been hot. As it was, the blush only looked lewd on Itachi's cheeks - evidence that he was deriving pleasure from his partner's pain. And the pain was becoming more intense, magnifying along with the pleasure into a dizzying concoction that made Kisame's mind reel. These sensations were far more intense than anything he'd ever felt before, nightmarish and nauseating. As Itachi began to bob his head up and down, letting the swordsman's length penetrate his throat with each thrust, it felt like hot coals were incinerating his guts. With some effort, Kisame managed to translate the horrible burning to the oncome of an orgasm. He winced, his muscles spasming, as the sensation increased beyond his control until it was unbearable, worse than anything he could ever imagine. When he finally came, his vision tunneled and he couldn't breathe - it was absolutely insane, equivalent to someone screaming bloody murder inside his head.

Itachi had most likely never done this to anyone before - the younger man couldn't possibly know he was inflicting such torture, could he? It would be a lot more obvious if Kisame was able to scream. Unfortunately, the Uchiha gave no signs that he was aware - or gave a shit, for that matter - that the swordsman was half-mad with agony. He looked feverish and pleased with himself as he swallowed Kisame's seed then slowly took the length out of his mouth.

"I didn't think you'd cum so quickly," he stated, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "This must be turning you on. Maybe you have a masochistic side?"

_Shut the fuck up, Itachi, _the swordsman raged. _What part of non-consentual don't you understand? Perhaps the core concept? _If only he could speak!

Itachi rose to his feet, a cold expression on his face, then leaned over and aggressively kissed the swordsman, making him taste his own seed. Kisame growled furiously and rolled his eyes when the younger man pulled away, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

"If you're masochistic, perhaps you'll enjoy this," Itachi said. "But... I have a feeling you're actually going to _hate _it." He grinned a little as he stuck a hand down his pants and pulled out his hard cock.

_You've got to kidding me!_ Kisame thought hysterically. His eyes watered profusely as he tried to struggle again, his muscles burning with the effort. Itachi merely laughed at the swordsman's reaction, beaming with delight, then grabbed Kisame by the hair.

"It's amazing what an idiot you are," he sneered, roughly pushing Kisame's head back so that it slammed against the cave wall. "You're only hurting yourself by struggling but you just keep doing it... like someone with no short-term memory. It's one of the stupidest things I've ever witnessed!" He gave Kisame's head a few more rough slams against the wall before releasing his hair; when he pulled his hand away, there was blood on his fingertips. Grinning, he stuck his thumb in the side of swordsman's mouth, jamming it back between his molars to open up his jaw some more - it made Kisame feel like a fish caught on a hook. The expression on the Uchiha's face was too demonic for words as he guided his cock to Kisame's mouth, rubbing the tip over his lips. "If I feel you so much as _twitch _in an effort to bite me, I'll put this up your ass instead," he stated bluntly. "And I'm sure you don't want that..." There was a slight pause before Itachi pushed his cock past the swordsman's lips - a justified hesitation - but it vanished as soon as the tip was inside, replaced with a blind hunger. Kisame shuddered with revulsion and clamped his eyes shut. The back of his head grated painfully aginst the wall as his partner avidly fucked his face, shoving in his cock as far as it would go with each thrust. The Uchiha's dick was only average in size - a fact that Kisame supposed he should be thankful for - but it still reached far enough down his throat to hurt. However, the humiliaton was far more painful than the physical aspect... he felt inconsolably wretched.

Itachi's motions were becoming more frenzied and he was saying something under his breath - 'fucking whore' were the only words Kisame caught. The fact that the Uchiha was trying to talk dirty to him was bizarrely funny... if he wasn't so upset he might have actually laughed. As it was, he felt closer to crying than laughing. He was so distraught, he didn't even notice right away that the genjutsu was beginning to slip - the signature burning sensation that had been wrecking his senses was becoming slightly weaker, waning to an uncomfortable yet bearable itch. Cautiously, he flexed his hand a little, knowing Itachi wouldn't notice from his vantage point. There was still pain with the movement, enough so that any considerable feat was still out of the question, but something small was definitely feasible. Like biting down, for instance.

Itachi fucked his throat faster and harder, too distacted with pleasure to realize his genjutsu was no longer in full effect. _It wouldn't be worth doing if I half-assed it, _Kisame deduced. _I'd have to actually maim his cock... or bite it clean off. _A gruesome mental image of Itachi's cock hanging by a thread flashed through his mind. _The bastard deserves it,_ he told himself. He opened his eyes and glared up at his partner's face, his mind racing. The fact that Itachi would try to kill him as a result seemed insignificant - he had a feeling the Uchiha wasn't going to let him live anyway. Infact, biting off his partner's dick would no doubt end the genjutsu and greatly increase his chance of survival. He couldn't imagine someone being able to fight after suffering such a fucked-up injury. He spent the next few seconds analyzing - calculating the pros and cons of the scenario, the possible outcomes. Within mere moments the solution was crystal clear. _If I bite it off, I might live. If I don't, he'll probably kill me when he's done. _That was all there was to it. Itachi certainly knew that what he was doing was unforgiveable, so there wasn't much of a chance that he'd leave Kisame alive and bloodthirsty for revenge.

The answer was obvious. One quick motion of his jaw and it would be over. But as the solution ran urgently through his mind, he found that he couldn't do it. 'Couldn't' wasn't actually the right word - he was physically capable of snapping shut his jaw with enough force to dismember his partner's dick. The fact was, he _wouldn't _do it. He had maimed and disfigured countless people in his lifetime... but never like this, for crying out loud. And never Itachi. The furious punches he'd thrown earlier in the night had been the first injuries he'd ever inflicted on his partner.

The opportunity was already passing - he could tell by the expression on his partner's face and the movement of his hips that he was close to orgasm. The swordsman blinked and tears fell out of his eyes... he wasn't sure whether they were from the physical pain or if he was actually crying. It could easily have been from the latter. He was painfully aware that he posessed a misplaced sense of right and wrong - when he had killed his comrades in Kirigakure, it had been 'right' because it was for the benefit of the village, and when he completed a particulary fucked-up mission for the Akatsuki, it was 'right' because it was contributing to a cause he believed in. Now, his stupid morals were preventing him from saving his own life - he just couldn't maim Itachi in such a way, regardless of whether or not the Uchiha deserved it. The decision was brutally final.

Itachi came moments later with a few crushing jerks of his hips, spilling his seed down the swordsman's throat. Breathing heavily, he slumped a little and kept his cock deep inside until it started to go limp. When he finally pulled it out, he shivered and cursed softly, leaning against the cave wall for support. Kisame gasped for air and swallowed weakly - Itachi's cum was burning his raw throat. The younger man's thumb lazily explored his mouth, slipping over his tongue.

_Oh shit, his thumb, _Kisame realized. _I can live with biting *that* off. _Before his thoughts could allow him to hesitate, he took a quick breath and bit down, snapping shut his jaw with as much force as he could muster. The few seconds that ensued were just _loud _- there was a tearing sound and then a brittle snap as his teeth tore through the flesh and broke the bone, immediately followed by a lot of screaming. Itachi, shocked out of his post-orgasm buzz, was shouting a stream of curses and blindly trying to jerk back his hand, only succeeding in tearing his flesh further. Kisame growled, blood filling up his mouth and dripping down his chin. Just a little more pressure and it'd come completely off-

Itachi's foot connected with his stomach, making him gasp through his clenched teeth. The injury he was inflicting apparently hadn't been enough to break the genjutsu, because he'd seen it coming and hadn't been able to tense his muscles to prepare. _Biting the fucker's dick off would have done it, _he told himself bitterly. The blow hurt like hell, and when the Uchiha kicked him a few more times he finally released his jaw and crumpled to the ground, gasping for air.

"You fucking psycho!" Itachi grated, reeling back and clutching his mangled thumb. He kicked the swordsman again, in the face this time. Stars slid over Kisame's line of sight and his vision tunneled as his consciousness threatened to slip - he barely even registered the pain as his partner continued, cursing and kicking him furiously like someone might beat a dog. When the blows abruptly stopped, he was so fucked up he couldn't even comprehend what was going on. He had to blink a few times, forcing himself to stay awake, before he realized that Samehada had crept up and bitten Itachi on the leg.

_Oh great,_ he thought. _Now it decides to help me. _On dry land, Samehada wasn't much of a threat with no one to wield it. All it was capable of was raising its spines in defense and biting - and while it could mangle a fish pretty easily, it just didn't have the right musculature to snap a human bone. It was designed to shred flesh and drain chakra, not to bite. Kisame was disappointed yet not at all surprised when Itachi shook it loose and kicked it across the cave. It hit the far wall with a thud and a loud screech. The swordsman sighed raggedly, his pummeled ribs aching - thanks to Samehada, his looming demise had been postponed for about ten measily seconds.

He winced involuntarily and shuddered when Itachi turned to face him again but the beating didn't continue. His partner was breathing quickly, his eyes narrowed, and blood trickled from a series of jagged wounds on his calf. For a while he just stood there, a puzzled look on his face.

"Why didn't you bite me sooner?" he finally asked. "I'm assuming you could have." Kisame's response was a weak growl and a glare - the Uchiha took a few steps back and warily released the genjutsu so that he could speak. It was obvious in his stance that he wasn't going to open himself up for another attack.

"I could have... but I didn't..." Kisame rasped. The release of the genjutsu brought little relief; it was immediately replaced by the very real pain of his injuries and a different kind of prickle - no doubt the onset of hypothermia. Just as he had suspected earlier, the illusion had caused him to rapidly expel all of his bodyheat. "You're lucky I have a conscience..." he murmured. All the insults and profanity he had wanted to say just minutes earlier now escaped him - his mind felt sluggish, like he was drunk.

"Damnit, Kisame," Itachi sighed. "All these years and I still don't understand you." He looked baffled and a little sad. "You have a twisted set of morals," he muttered under his breath.

"Speak for yourself," Kisame gasped, choking on a mixture of the Uchiha's blood and his own. "Perverted bastard." His extremities were numb and his body was trembling in a last-ditch effort to warm itself up.

"Whatever," Itachi said. "You drove me to this. I'm normally not a violent person." The last part of his response sounded uncertain, as if he was trying to convince himself of the fact.

"That's ridiculous," Kisame growled, slurring slightly. How could someone who had supposedly killed their entire clan for the hell of it say they weren't violent? Let alone the screwed up shit he had just done to his own partner. The swordsman wanted to say this aloud but he was becoming too tired to expend the effort. Just thinking was exhausting.

Itachi sighed and clutched his injured hand tighter to his chest. "I don't know why I'm even talking to you," he muttered, sounding tired and depressed. "You're already dying..." He cautiously stepped closer and grabbed Kisame's cloak, yanking it out from under him. Once back out of arm's reach, he slung the cloak over his own shoulders and did up a couple of snaps, leaving his wounded hand tucked inside. "You probably won't live through the night... it's below freezing and you're hypothermic," he stated. "To be honest, I was going to slit your throat..." He lowered his eyes and shrugged. "But I guess I don't have it in me." As he turned on his heels and headed for the cave's exit, he added, "If by some chance you actually survive the night, I suppose you'll seek me out, wanting revenge..." He reached into his weapons pouch and pulled out something small and round - it looked like a smoke bomb. "If that happens, I'll be waiting for you."

_Great, _Kisame thought listlessly, watching his partner with heavy-lidded eyes. _The last thing I get to hear before I croak is a stupid revenge speech._

Once Itachi was out of the cave, he hurled the object inside and disappeared from Kisame's line of sight. The thing immediately started spewing a thick, sweet-smelling smoke. _Sleeping gas,_ Kisame noted deleriously, recognizing the scent immediately. _But why would he bother? I'm already too weak to move. _As he coughed on the smoke, it came to him. _It's to put Samehada to sleep, not me..._ For some stupid reason, the sword was susceptible to sleeping gas - one of the downsides to having a living creature for a weapon. He must have divulged this to Itachi at some point, though he couldn't remember exactly when... or why. Either way, Samehada's healing ability was probably his only chance of survival. _Well... looks like this is the end of the road, _he thought apathetically. _What a shitty way to die._ With every breath he took, exhaustion swept over him until he could no longer hold his train of thought. When sleep began to take hold, the last thing he felt was a vague comfort... like warmth.


	8. Chapter 8

Kisame awoke to the sound of whining and something wet lapping his face. With great reluctance, he slowly opened his eyes. It was light out - dawn, maybe - and the rays of sun were blurry and uncomfortably bright. A creature was persistantly licking his cheek... a few minutes passed before recognition finally came to him.

_That's Samehada... _he thought sluggishly, gazing dumbly at the weapon's spiky form. He closed his eyes and growled softly. _ Why won't it leave me alone?_ he wondered, irritated. _ I just wanna sleep. _His mind started to cloud over, the feeling pleasant and warm like a sake buzz. He welcomed the sensation, wanting it to envelope him, but Samehada's dogged attentions wouldn't allow him to drift off.

"Go away," he rasped, his voice sounding weak and alien to his own ears. He tried to bat the sword away but his arm only twitched uselessly at his side. "Can't you see I'm sleeping?" he murmured.

The licking finally stopped, to his relief. He began to slip into the calm warmth of unconsciousness again, eager for it, but the licking was quickly replaced by the unpleasant feel of jagged teeth worrying his shoulder. "Damnit, Samehada!" he exclaimed. "That _hurts!_" The pain jolted him wide awake and suddenly every muscle in his body hurt like hell - it felt like he was being torn apart. "Stop it," he panted, his breath becoming shallow and labored as his senses flooded back to him. The sword reluctantly released his shoulder, its spines raised with concern.

_Holy shit, what *happened* to me?_ he wondered deleriously. His distressed mind couldn't conjure up an answer - trying to remember felt like swimming through tar. All he could be sure of was his current condition, which was obviously dire. He couldn't move, his body felt like it had been steamrolled, and a tingling, wretched itch was all he could feel in his extremities. He was fairly certain that he was dying.

Something cold and prickly began to twine up his arm - it was Samehada's hilt. _Shit, it's gonna try to heal me, _he realized helplessly. _ I'm probably too far gone though... doesn't it see that? _Apparently not, because seconds later a warmth pulsed through his senses, pleasant at first then excrutiating as it seeped to his numb extremities. He cried out and tried to pull away but he was too weak. Dying had been much more pleasant.

He clamped his eyes shut and grated his teeth, trying not to focus on the pain of being revived. A few agonizing minutes passed - they felt like hours - but eventually the pain began receding to something bearable. The burning in his extremities ebbed to a warm itch and his shallow, weak breathing became deeper and more regular. When Samehada's hilt finally went slack from around his arm, he blinked a few times and flexed his muscles. It still hurt... but nowhere near as bad. Cautiously, he sat up, rising slowly so as not to faint. Samehada curled up at his side, shivering and uncharacteristically thin - he'd never seen the sword so low on chakra. _The poor thing almost died trying to save me, _he realized with a pang of guilt. When he reached out and stroked its spikes, it growled pitifully and burrowed in closer to his side.

Now that death was no longer imminent, he analyzed his situation more clearly, his hand absently running over Samehada's spines as he thought. He was in a cave, that much was obvious. It was definitely around dawn - the air was chill and crisp and he could see frost on the ground outside. And dried blood was on the cave floor, mostly where his face had been but also splattered about elsewhere - there was a distinct trail that led out of the cave. _Someone fought me and lived, _he realized. The fact seemed preposterous... he hadn't lost a battle since he was an adolescant. _Whoever it was, they left me here to die, _he told himself. _ But why didn't they just finish me off? That was an *incredibly* stupid move on their part. Maybe they were dying as well? _But the amount of blood told a different story - it definitely wasn't enough to be from a mortal injury. A signature of Kisame's fighting style was always copious amounts of blood and perhaps a severed limb or two... it was always very obvious when he inflicted a mortal blow. He sighed, baffled. Why couldn't he _remember?_ He had heard that severe hypothermia was often accompanied by amnesia... was this the case?

_Furthermore,_ he thought, _where the hell was Itachi through all this? Is he fuckin' dead or what? _His skin prickled involuntarily with the mention of Itachi's name and a flicker of understanding flashed through his mind. He repeated the name, mouthing it silently.

_Itachi_.

Shreds of memory began to float before him; he clung onto them desperately as the gears crunched in his head.

"Itachi," he said aloud, the name rolling acidly off his tongue.

And then it suddenly came to him, flooding in all at once like terrible epiphany. He gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of him and winced, drowning in the lurid details that crowded his mind. The entire night flashed before him like a hallucination, starting with the spying mission and ending with cracked ribs and sleeping gas. For several minutes he was frozen as if paralyzed, too embroiled in the memories to move a muscle. He didn't want it to be real - he wanted to believe it was just a fucked-up nightmare - but the fact that it had happened was painfully clear.

_If by some chance you actually survive the night, I suppose you'll seek me out, wanting revenge... _Itachi's last words echoed through his mind as if they were being spoken aloud. _If that happens, I'll be waiting for you._

"Fuckin' ridiculous," he muttered, seething. Itachi's little revenge speech was almost exactly the same shit he'd said to his dumb little brother in that tourist town near Konoha a year back. But unlike Sasuke Uchiha, whose life apparently existed solely for fratricide, Kisame wasn't so quick to bite. The fact that he was fuckin' pissed didn't change much of anything - Itachi was still stronger than him, no two ways about it. Taking revenge on his partner would probably result in his own demise... and maybe an angry dick up his ass, to boot.

But as he told himself all this, he wasn't sure if it would hold true when he inevitably saw Itachi again. He was only human... as level-headed as he was, he was still susceptible to rage.

_Ugh... I'm thinking too far ahead,_ he told himself. _I don't even know if I'm strong enough to leave this fucking cave._ He decided to test his theory out, shifting to a crouch then using the wall for support as he shakily rose to his feet. The small effort made him gasp breathlessly and flinch - his joints were stiff as hell and his muscles burned rawly, especially in the places where Itachi had kicked him. Samehada's healing ability had saved his life, but the poor thing hadn't had enough chakra to rid him of all his injuries. He looked over himself, examining the extent of the damage. Some of his ribs were either broken or bruised - he could see welts beginning to form and breathing too deeply caused him great pain. There were more bruises and cuts marring his torso, arms, and by the feel of it, his face. He felt his nose and immediately knew that it was broken - it was a little crooked and sore to the touch. When he probed his jaw, he was relieved to find it in place, but the flesh around his eye was swollen and tender... no doubt the beginning of a shiner. His biggest concern was his extremities - his fingers and toes, while intact, were itchy and painful to flex. _Moderate frostbite,_ he concluded. _ In the best case scenario, I might lose a few nails._

_Well... all in all, there's nothing too severe, _he told himself. _ I should be able to reach the nearest town. _He did a few stretches to relieve some of the stiffness, then pushed away from the wall, forcing himself to walk. It was difficult - hell on his frostbitten toes - but manageable. He limped over to Samehada's tattered bindings and haphazardly bandaged his worst injuries, then gently wrapped the poor creature up with what remained. "You rest," he told it as he strapped it to his back. "I'll find you something to eat soon." As he headed for the cave's exit, a glint caught the corner of his eye. It was his headband... he had almost forgotten about it. He picked it up and brushed it off, glaring at it thoughtfully before putting it on his head. _ Itachi took this off before kissing me, _he reminisced, shifting the fabric so that it covered up his injured eye. _That first kiss had actually felt nice... if only it could have just stopped there._

X X X

The nearest town, Iwagakure, was out of the question. It was only a few miles to the north but the chances Kisame would make it in unnoticed were slim. He was listed in all the bingo books, after all... and his telltale blue skin was a beacon for unwanted attention. The next closest village was a crappy farming community about half a day's journey south. It was a longer walk than he was comfortable with attempting in his state, but there wasn't any other choice.

At first, he'd been happy that the sky was clear and the chill wind had stopped, but as the day progressed, he found himself wishing for even a little cloud cover. The Land of Earth was so barren and dry that it seemed to suck the moisture right out of his body as he walked - within a few short hours his mouth felt like sandpaper and his eyes burned in their sockets. He hadn't had a drop of water since yesterday, thanks to Itachi. The bastard had grabbed what little was left from the cave. He cursed under his breath as he walked, feeling his muscles occasionally spasm with dehydration.

By the time he reached the village, he was close to collapsing. He'd endured the entire journey without finding a single spring or dwelling on the way and his dehydrated muscles were barely functioning. Ragged, impoverished villagers going about their business cowered from his path as he staggered down the dirt road, scanning the buildings blearily for a bar or a teahouse. When he finally spotted a faded sign that read 'beer,' he used the last of his energy to push through the swinging doors and slump onto a stool. "Gimme water," he rasped, glaring wildly at the skinny, middle-aged guy behind the bar. There was a mirror on the back wall - his reflection looked horrific. His lips were cracked, his one revealed eye was shadowed with a dark ring, and streaks of dried blood stained the side of his face. No wonder people were cowering from him - he looked like he'd just crawled out of the gates of hell.

"Here," the bartender said, placing a glass of water in front of him. Kisame stared dumbly at it for a second, wondering deleriously if it was an illusion, before drinking it down in one gulp.

"Ugh," he growled. The water tasted like rotten eggs. "Give me more." He drank another glass, trying not to gag. When he looked at the bartender, the guy was glaring at him sullenly. "Whatever, it tastes like shit," he mumbled.

"Water's scarce around here," the bartender stated. "It costs money."

Kisame rolled his one good eye and pulled some crumpled bills out of his pants pocket, slapping them messily onto the bar. "There's enough here to buy this whole shitty pub," he growled. "Now get me drunk. I want to forget this day ever happened."

As the afternoon passed into evening, the bar slowly filled with people, coming in for a cold one after toiling on whatever shitty crop it was they farmed out here. Turnips? Potatoes? Kisame imagined it was some kind of boring, bland root. As he slammed pints with an insatiable thirst, Samehada got its long-awaited meal, skimming chakra off the unsuspecting villagers when they walked by. No one seemed to notice that the sword had nearly doubled in size since he'd first walked in. _It has enough chakra to heal me the rest of the way,_ he eventually realized. But for some reason, he didn't want to be healed. He glared at his frightening reflection in the mirror and scowled, baring a few jagged teeth. There was something darkly satisfying about looking as wretched on the outside as he felt within. He took a gulp of beer then grabbed the bridge of his nose, roughly popping it back into place. He hoped it would heal like shit.

By dark, he was pretty hammered. He was beginning to spill beer trying to raise it to his lips with his frost-bitten fingers, and the bartender was glaring at him despite all the money he'd eagerly accepted hours earlier. If Kisame wasn't, well, _Kisame_, he probably would have been strong-armed out by now. But since he was, no one had the balls to even approach him, let alone try and make him leave. _These farming podunks are so pathetic, _he thought irritably. He almost wished someone would start a fight with him - he was in the mood for a drunken brawl.

"Who the hell are you?"

Kisame glared over to find a girl sitting next to him, a blonde twenty-something wearing a short, white kimono and a bit too much makeup. _Who the hell are you, the town whore?_ he thought, almost saying the words outloud. He held his tongue, instead saying, "I'm nobody. Leave me alone."

But the girl persisted. "What happened?" she asked. "Your injuries, I mean... not the fact that you're _blue_."

"Nothing happened," Kisame growled, downing the rest of his beer and motioning for another. "Go away." He tried to pretend she wasn't there as the bartender grudgingly poured him another pint, setting it down before him with a scowl.

"You look like you need medical attention," the girl said, watching him intently with eyes that were either green or blue - Kisame couldn't tell or care less which.

"Did I stutter?" he growled menacingly. "I said _go away. _ I don't need any help."

"You don't have to be rude," the girl said indignantly. Kisame was mildly surprised that she didn't sound scared - maybe she was just too stupid to sense danger. "I just noticed that you're hurt, that's all," she added defensively.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he relented, sloshing his glass of beer a little in his poorly bandaged fingers. "But I'm fine... just pissed off is all. These injuries are nothing."

"You have frostbite," the girl stated, undaunted. "And possibly a concussion." She reached over and boldly lifted the fabric from his injured eye - he flinched but didn't pull away. "And... that's a shattered zygomatic bone," she said. "If it gets infected-"

"Ugh," Kisame spat, his patience thinning. "Why the hell do you _care?_ You don't even know me... I could be a fuckin' _cannibal _or some shit!" He felt the urge to shove her away but repressed it.

"I'm just trying to be a good samaritan," the girl said, sounding a little hurt. "I'm a nurse... just let me tend to your wounds and I'll leave you alone." She put Kisame's headband back over his eye and smiled a little. "Although I really hope you won't _eat _me when I'm done," she joked.

Kisame sighed and finished his beer, downing it all in one gulp. "Fine," he growled, slamming the empty glass onto the bar. "But just as a warning, I'm really fucking hungry." He did nothing to imply that he was joking, making the girl laugh uncertainly.

X X X

The nurse's home was a small apartment in the center of the village, nestled above some kind of boutique. The place was pretty small but Kisame assumed it was nicer than most of the other decrepit shacks in this shitty town. She had introduced herself on the way over but he'd already forgotten her name. It was Sara or Terra... or something.

"Kisame, huh..." she murmured, grabbing some medical supplies from a cabinet. "_Demon shark... _is that really your name?"

"Yah," he stated bluntly, glaring at her from the couch she had insisted he 'make himself comfortable' on. He had laid Samehada across his knees and was absently stroking the sword's spines through its tattered bindings - the girl probably assumed that he was doting on an inanimate object. Bored and slightly nervous, he noted how immaculate the apartment was. He and Samehada were definitely the dirtiest objects in the place.

"And that headband," she said, her arms full of bandages and jars, "It's a... a _mist _symbol, isn't it? Why did you cross the symbol out?"

"You ask a lot of questions," the swordsman growled, watching her carefully place her armload of supplies onto the coffeetable in front of him.

"Oh," she stammered. "I'm sorry. It's just that... I tended to someone earlier today who also had a crossed out symbol on his headband. Except it was a swirly leaf."

Kisame's reaction must have been absolutely terrifying because the nurse's eyes widened and she took a step back. "What did I say?" she breathed. "The guy's thumb was in shreds-"

"_Where is he?_" Kisame hissed, his hands clenching into fists.

"I don't know!" she exclaimed. "He came through town early this morning and left before noon! I... I don't know which way he went, I swear!" Her face was pale with fear.

Kisame sighed and forced his hands to relax - he had forgotten that he could be so intimidating. "Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to freak out..." The fact that Itachi had stopped through here shouldn't have come as such a surprise... after all, it was the only Akatsuki-accessible village within several miles.

The nurse hesitated uncertainly before approaching the coffee table agin. "A lot of shinobi pass through here on their way to and from Iwa," she said carefully. "It's a pretty common thing... so I didn't think anything of it. The distance between villages in this area is brutal."

"Tell me about it," Kisame sighed, wincing as he leaned back on the couch. Drunk as he was, his injuries still hurt like hell. He felt slightly brick-headed for not letting Samehada just heal him - the only thing making him hesitate at this point was a weird fear that doing so would be insulting to... err... _what's-her-name_. The nurse. _Shit, all these years and women still make me act idiotic, _he thought sourly. _How the hell did she even talk me into coming up here?_ The fact that she had a pair of tits and he'd had about twenty pints of beer probably had something to do with it. His behavior around women was a knee-jerk reaction when he was shit-faced.

"So... are you gonna tell me what happened?" the nurse asked, disrupting his chain of thought. "That leaf guy... I'm guessing he's an enemy of yours?"

_No... just someone who fucked my face against my will and left me for dead,_ Kisame said to himself. "He's a crazy piece of shit," he finally growled. "Shouldn't be... running around..."

"Oh, so he's a _criminal_?" she asked, the expression on her face comically oblivious. "And what, you're trying to catch him?"

Kisame paused, his mood lifting as he relished in the incredible stupidity of the moment. "Yah," he said slowly. "Cuz, um... like you said. He's a criminal. Off the deep end."

The nurse blushed as she dipped a cotton swab into some kind of solution. "So you're, like... a _hero_, huh?" she murmured. "Catching bad guys and bringing them to justice?" She skirted around the coffeetable and took a seat next to him on the couch, close enough that their legs were touching.

"I don't know about all that," Kisame said, suppressing a smirk. He took Samehada off his lap and leaned it against the side of the couch, afraid it might randomly bristle up and stab her. "I could just be a liar," he growled. "You should be careful... there's still a chance I might eat you." He grinned a little, baring his sharp teeth.

"No way," the girl giggled, laughing nervously and blushing. "Now hold still." She bit her lip as she slipped off his headband and folded it neatly on the coffee table. "This might hurt," she warned, trying to look serious as she held up the swab. "But I have to clean out your eye."

"I think I'll manage," Kisame said dryly. The nurse leaned in a little and proceeded to cleanse his eye with whatever was on the swab. The shit burned mildly but wasn't too bad - it was pleasant compared to the other degrees of pain he'd felt in the past twenty-four hours. While she worked, the swordsman found himself finally noticing that her eyes were blue, almost the same shade as Deidara's. Her blond hair was a close match as well... if it was a little longer and more layered, it would have been identical. Drunk and slightly horny, he wondered if getting with her would be like fucking a Deidara stunt-double. _Maybe if I fucked her from behind and squinted my eyes... _he mused. _But she'd have to take it up the ass and say 'hmm' a lot._

When the nurse was done cleaning his eye, she scooted a little closer to him and brushed her hand over his thigh, trying to pretend it was accidental. "You have pretty eyes, Kisame," she breathed, blushing fiercely.

_You look kinda like the boy I fuck,_ he thought. A small part of him was resisting, telling him to be faithful to Deidara, but the rest was screaming _fuck it, you've already betrayed him!_ After a brief, pathetic moral struggle, he grinned crookedly and put a hand on her thigh. "You're not so bad yourself," he growled.

Once their lips met, the night became a blur. They downed a bottle of sake she'd been saving for a 'special occasion' then immediately proceeded to fuck their way through every room in the apartment. She sucked his dick in the shower, they sixty-nined on the living room couch, fucked standing up for a while in the kitchen, then finally stumbled to the bedroom where he mercilessly banged her from behind until he came, shoving her face into the mattress and mouthing Deidara's name. He didn't remember much of anything after that - he passed out drunk with the girl curled up beside him on the bed.

X X X

When he woke up, it took him a minute to remember what had happened. His head was pounding and his injuries felt horrific - he hadn't had a hangover in years and he'd forgotten how much they sucked. As the details of the night solidified in his mind, he groaned and rubbed his temples. _ I do *not* deserve someone like Deidara, _he thought to himself. _ I'm such a piece of shit. _He sat up and surveyed his surroundings, taking in the details of the nurse's bedroom for the first time - last night it had just been a blur. It looked like a stereotypical girl's room: matching sheets and a bunch of dumb little pillows on the queen-sized bed, a dresser with a large vanity mirror, and a few nauseatingly cute posters on the walls. _You wouldn't think I'd be her type, _he mused. But he didn't feel surprised - he wasn't really any girl's type. He'd heard the phrase 'there's just something about you' on more than one occasion, which he assumed was a female excuse for 'why the hell did I get with you?'

He heard the sound of light footsteps and looked over to find the girl standing in the doorway, wearing a different, slightly less slutty kimono and, once again, too much makeup. "Did you sleep okay?" she asked.

"I don't remember," Kisame muttered. "You know, you look better without the makeup."

She laughed uncertainly. "I don't know about that," she giggled. "You're making me blush!"

"Wow, I, uh... can hardly even tell," Kisame growled. The nurse laughed again and shifted uncomfortably, unsure of whether or not he'd just insulted her.

"Anyway," she stammered. "I made some tea... and there's some food if you're hungry. I want to finish taking care of your injuries, too, since I didn't... _get _to it last night." She actually _was _blushing - Kisame could see her cheeks flushing under the cover-up.

"Yah, alright," the swordsman said. He looked around the room and sheepishly added, "Do you know where my pants are?"

"Oh," she said. "Lemme go get them. I think they're in the bathroom..."

He got dressed, head pounding and muscles stiff. The bruises all over his torso and arms had darkened to a deep shade of indigo and his injured eye was completely swelled shut. Healing naturally fuckin' _sucked _- it was almost embarrassing how beat-up he looked - yet it was fairly pointless to have Samehada heal him at this point. The sword's healing ability was for dire, immediate injuries... using it now would border on vanity.

He took a seat in the kitchen and let the nurse pour him some tea. When he glanced into the living room, he saw that Samehada was predictably still where he'd left it, resting against the couch.

"That sword is alive, isn't it?" the nurse said, following his gaze.

"What makes you think that?" asked Kisame, burning his mouth on the tea - he was insanely thirsty and couldn't help but drink it too fast.

"It growled at me," she stated. "And... _bristled_."

Kisame snorted. "You didn't try to touch it, did you?" he asked.

"No way," she insisted. "It wouldn't even let me get close! That thing is _scary_."

"It doesn't let anyone handle it but me," Kisame explained. "I guess I kinda forgot to tell you. And yah, it's a living creature... it's name is Samehada."

"Shark skin?" the girl mused, giggling. "You guys' names are switched up. You're the one with shark skin... and that thing looks more like a demon." She moved behind him and put her hands on his shoulders, kneading his muscles. "You know, neither of your names sound like something a _good guy_ would be called," she said. "I think maybe you were lying to me last night..."

Kisame laughed outloud and leaned back in the chair a little - he couldn't remember the last time someone had rubbed his shoulders. _ I think it was Itachi, _he mused. _ Bastard probably had a boner while he was doing it. _"I told you I could be a liar," he replied, letting his eyes drift shut. "Does that piss you off?"

"I guess not," The girl confessed as she moved down a little and kneaded the spot between his shoulder blades. "I just wish I knew who you really were," she said.

"Nah," Kisame breathed. "You really don't."

As he finished the tea and picked at some food - unsurprisingly, there were turnips in it - she continued to pry but eventually gave up when he failed to give her any straight answers.

"I thought you were hungry," she said sourly, glaring at the basically untouched plate of food. "Is it cuz there's no _human meat_ in there?"

"Damnit woman, I'm not a cannibal," Kisame growled. "I just don't like turnips." He couldn't care less that most women got offended when their cooking was called into question.

"Well... too bad," she said. "It's a diet staple around here." She put away the leftovers then motioned for him to go sit on the couch. He obeyed, wincing a little in the process as his sore muscles protested. She followed him into the living room and sat beside him, then took one of his bandaged hands. "I'm really worried about your frostbite," she stated. "Can I take these bandages off?"

"Go for it," Kisame sighed.

Once his fingers were free of the bandages, the nurse clicked her tongue and shook her head, which was never a good sign. "It's worse than I thought," she said. Kisame looked down at his hand - the tips of his fingers were black, as if he'd dipped them in ink.

"How bad did you think it was gonna be?" he said dryly.

"This is serious," the nurse insisted. "If you were to leave this unattended, the flesh would rot and you'd get _gangrene_."

"Ugh," Kisame snorted. "Well... attend to it, then."

Over the next hour they made small talk as she worked on his fingers, rubbing them with various weird-smelling salves and carefully rewrapping them in clean bandages. After some time, he found himself getting hard from the physical contact - the nurse blushed when she noticed.

"Sorry," he muttered unconvincingly.

The nurse bit her lip and touched his cock through his pants, running her fingers up and down the shaft. "I don't mind at all," she sighed.

X X X

_Kisame. Kisame!_ Pain's voice rang loudly in the swordsman's head.

_Oh for crying out loud, what is it? _Kisame growled inwardly. The nurse was sucking his cock like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted... obviously, this was _not _a good time to be telecommunicating.

_You've been blocking me out for the past ten minutes,_ Pain raged. _What the hell are you doing?_

Kisame groaned and pushed the girl's head down further onto his cock, making her choke a little as he thought of a response. _I'm in the middle of something,_ he finally said. _Can't this wait?_

_No, it's urgent, _Pain snapped. There was a brief pause before he added, _again, what the hell are you doing?_

_Umm... something awesome,_ Kisame replied.

Another pause, longer this time. _Fine, you have twenty minutes to... um... *ugh.* _And then the voice was silent. Transmission over.

_Twenty minutes?_ Kisame wondered, mildly embarrassed. _Is that the average time it takes to screw or what? _He wasn't sure if he'd be able to finish by then... it took him a lot longer with women than it had with Deidara. Either way, there was definitely no way it was gonna happen with her just sucking him off. "Hey," he growled, yanking her up by the arm and pulling her on top of him. He glanced up at the clock on the wall. "I'd rather just fuck."

Nineteen minutes later he finally came. The nurse collapsed onto him, sighing something about how 'amazing' the sex was.

"Yah," he muttered, rolling her off him and rising to his feet. "Look... I gotta be alone for a minute," he said as he pulled up his pants. "Can I borrow your balcony?"

"Why do you have to be alone?" she pouted sleepily.

"Once again, it's none of your business," he growled. Met with her hurt expression, he sighed and rubbed his temples. "I'm sorry," he said. "Just give me... I dunno... _twenty minutes_."

The balcony was on the back of the building, facing an alleyway. A bunch of drab, ragged laundry was strung up between the narrowly-spaced buildings and a pack of skinny dogs fought over the contents of a spilled trash can. The nurse's clusterfuck of potted medicinal plants was the only thing out here that wasn't some shade of shit-brown. But it was a safe place to be while he temporarily dropped his guard for a meeting. He sat himself down between a couple of aloe plants and closed his eyes.

Suddenly he was in a large cavern, surrounded by the colorful, swirling images of all the other Akatsuki members - including Itachi. His partner's eyes widened a little as he briefly gawked; actually it was just one eye, as the other had swollen to a slit just like Kisame's. In fact, _everyone _was gawking at him - he realized that although his appearance was vague, they could still tell that he was shirtless and beat to shit.

"Glad you could come," Pain said dryly.

"Phrasing," Kisame muttered under his breath.

"Holy shit, Kisame!" Deidara immediately burst. "What the hell _happened _to you?" The outburst was followed by a muttered curse from Sasori.

"Doesn't matter," the swordsman growled, unable to look the little blonde in the eye. Instead he fixed his gaze on Itachi and said, "Suffice it to say, it was something really _stupid_."

"Come on, tell us who did it," Hidan pried, his violet eyes glinting. "You look like a fuckin' battered wife!"

"Shut the fuck up, Hidan," Kisame snapped.

"Did you and goth boy over there have a spat?" he pressed, his white teeth bared in a scythe-like grin as he looked over at Itachi. "Looks like he's got a shiner too... what a strange coincidence!"

"Next time I see you I'm gonna cut your fuckin' tongue out," the swordsman grated.

"If that actually worked, I would have made him a mute a long time ago..." Kakuzu grumbled, glaring accusingly at his partner. "Immortal jackass."

"Everyone, shut the _hell _up!" Pain interjected, his deep voice ringing with authority. "What do you people think this is, a _social gathering_? The reason you're all here is because we have something _important _to discuss!"

After a bit more grumbling and cursing, everyone finally fell silent.

Once Pain was certain he had everyone's attention, he sighed and said, "I recently received some intel on the general location of one of Orochimaru's new hideouts. I want to know _exactly _where it is, how big it is, and what he's using it for."

"What do you want us to do?" Sasori asked dryly. "_Break in_?"

"I want you to do whatever's necessary to obtain the information," Pain snapped. "If that includes breaking in, then so be it! But I'd rather no one put themselves at risk here... so use your skills to do this in the most efficient way possible."

"Why don't we just kill him?" Deidara asked indignantly. "I don't get why we have to spend all this time gathering info about him when he's just one stupid guy."

"Orochimaru isn't stupid," growled Zetsu's black half. "And considering how he switches bodies, he might not even be a _guy _right now," the white half chimed in with a grin.

"Zetsu's right," said Pain. "About both things, actually. But Orochimaru isn't someone to be taken lightly... not only is he incredibly strong, but he has an _armada _of medicated freaks under his command. If we just blindly attack him, we'll most certainly suffer casualties, which we can't afford... that's why I want intel. We'll take him down when the time is right."

"So are we all gonna be on this mission together?" Hidan asked. "That would be... _annoying_."

"I'm putting a four-man squad on the task," said Pain. "It's going to be Deidara, Sasori, Kisame and Itachi. But I want the rest of you within a half-day's journey of the location... just incase the worst happens and reinforcements are needed. This mission is _not _to be taken lightly." He then proceeded to tell the group the general location of the hideout - it was all the way down in the Tea Country, a penninsula south of the Land of Fire. Everyone grumbled when they heard this - it was a long journey from, well, _everything_.

"Ugh, that's the middle of nowhere," Deidara griped.

"That's probably why Orochimaru picked it," stated Pain. "Now everyone disperse... except for Kisame and Itachi."

The images of the other members flickered then vanished, leaving Itachi and Kisame locked in a death-glare.

"What did you two gather from your spying mission?" asked Pain.

There was a long silence - Kisame wasn't about to talk and Itachi seemed to be rendered mute. Finally, the Uchiha gave a vague description of the intel they had gathered, skipping over the parts about Deidara's infatuation with the swordsman and, of course, all the raping that had ensued.

"So the Tsuchikage isn't luring us into some kind of trap?" Pain asked.

"No, at least not as far as we could tell," said Itachi.

"Well, good," Pain stated. "That's... _mildly _helpful to know." Just when he looked like he was about to dismiss them, he said, "Now tell me what the hell is going on with you two! I can sense your locations... you're _miles _apart from each other! And you both look like absolute _shit_ - especially you, Kisame."

"Thanks," Kisame muttered. Another long silence ensued... Pain's anger seemed to radiate throughout the cave. Since Itachi appeared to be tongue-tied yet again, Kisame sighed and said, "We had a fight. We're not getting along as _partners _very well."

Pain's rippling gaze shifted back and forth between the two men. "I don't care," he finally stated. "I'm not switching up the whole organization because you two have issues. Got it?"

"That _sucks_," Kisame muttered under his breath. Met with Pain's glare, he sighed again. "Fine," he growled. He shot Itachi one last cold look before he abruptly left the meeting, cursing aloud as he opened his eyes.

He spent a few more minutes seated on the balcony, embroiled in thought. The meeting had gone decidedly worse than he'd expected it to. The part about him having to remain partners with Itachi was bad enough... what worried him even more was that they were teaming up with Deidara and Sasori. He imagined that within minutes of seeing eachother, they'd all literally be at eachother's throats - not to mention that Deidara was going to try and pry the truth from him with more tenacity than an interrogation squad. The blonde wasn't stupid... he had probably already put two and two together after seeing the Uchiha's matching shiner. _I'd do anything to prevent him from blindly attacking Itachi, _he thought. _He'd be throwing his life away! There's no way I could live with that._ And on top of it all, he'd spent the last twelve hours fucking a Deidara look-alike. _That definitely doesn't help matters, _he told himself bitterly. But after getting mouth-raped and left for dead, banging a hot nurse had actually done wonders for his battered mental state. He didn't regret it as much as he supposed he should, verifying his conviction that he was a piece of shit.

When he finally rose to his feet and went back inside, his mind was weighed down with depressing thoughts. The nurse was laying on the couch, half-asleep. She watched him out of one half-lidded eye and shifted a little. "Did you, umm... have a good time being by yourself?" she asked.

"Not really," Kisame muttered. He looked at the clock on the wall and sighed - he was by far the farthest member from the Tea Country so he was going to have to haul ass to get there punctually. "I gotta take off," he said.

The girl sat up and blinked a few times. "Really?" she stammered. "But I didn't even finish tending to your injuries!"

"I'll be fine," he growled. He went to retrieve Samehada from next to the couch but she grabbed his wrist to stop him. "I told you I gotta leave," he stated bluntly.

"I know," she said. She looked incredibly vulnerable. "I just want to... well... can we just go one more time? _Please_?"

Kisame glanced from her to the clock then back. "I guess we could..." he finally relented. "But we gotta be quick."

X X X

He left the apartment an hour later with a post-orgasm buzz and a kit of medical supplies.

"You're welcome back anytime," the girl called after him as he slipped out the door, a hint of desperation in her voice.

"Yah, I know," he said, supressing the urge to laugh outloud. "And by the way... _thanks_. Seriously."

He stopped by a few stores on his way out of town, grabbing some food and water for the long trip ahead. The nurse had given him a messanger-style canvas bag despite his protests, which he had to admit was already proving to be useful. Once on the southern outskirts of town, he slung the bag over his back, stretched his sore muscles a few times, and started on his journey.


	9. Chapter 9

"I really want to know what happened to Kisame," Deidara said for about the millionth time in the past day.

"And I really want you to shut up," Sasori growled, his voice distorted by Hiruko. "Like I keep saying, you can ask him when you _see _him."

"But what if he, I dunno... _dies_?" the blonde insisted, his sandals crunching through a patch of dry leaves.

"Then you can ask his corpse what happened," Sasori stated bluntly. "Honestly, if you don't shut up, you'll be the one who dies."

"Holy shit, what's it like to be such an asshole?" Deidara snapped. He winced as he stubbed his toe on a root and bit back a curse when he saw that the puppetmaster had noticed. Even through Hiruko's expressionless face, he could sense his partner's dry amusement.

Ever since their weird, sex-charged fight, the two had been trying hard to endure eachother's company, masking full-on rage with dry insults and sarcasm. On the outside, their behavior was almost exactly like it had been before... but there was a tension just under the surface, pulled tight and threatening to snap like a badly tuned guitar string. Whether it would eventually manifest itself in a violent fight or an angry wrestling match of a fuck, neither man was quite sure.

The only thing certain about the near future was that something shitty was bound to happen when they paired up with Itachi and Kisame in the Tea Country - it made their current problems pale in comparison. _What if Hidan was right? _Deidara lamented. _ If Itachi was the one who did that to Kisame, I'm gonna fuckin' kill him!_ He felt weirdly protective of the swordsman, despite the fact that he was inferior in strength and at least a foot shorter. _If I could have been there, whoever beat him up would be in a million pieces, _he raged, hands clenching into fists at his sides. He had been obsessing over Kisame's battered appearance ever since the meeting - remembering the swordsman's swelled shut eye and bandaged wounds made his heart pound and his blood boil. He literally felt like he was going to explode.

"Ugh, you're doing it again," Sasori growled, cutting off Deidara's heated train of thought.

"Doing _what_?" the blonde snapped, his face hot.

"Getting all worked up in your head," the puppeteer stated. "You realize clenching your fists and grating your teeth isn't helping anyone, right? All it's doing is pissing me off."

"Well... too bad," Deidara hissed. "I can't help it... so just _deal _with it."

"Think about something else, will you?" Sasori urged. "Like... how your stunningly attractive partner gives amazing hand jobs."

"Who, you?" the blonde said dryly. He made an apathetic gesture and said, "Eh... It was mediocre at best, hmm?"

Hiruko's tail flicked from side to side, a sign that the redhead within was annoyed. "I guess mediocre handjobs make you cum like a geyser, then," he growled, the statement sounding ridiculous in Hiruko's rumbling voice.

"Damnit, Sasori," Deidara sighed. "Don't talk about sex with me while you're wearing that hideous thing. You know it makes me uncomfortable."

"That's why I'm doing it," Sasori replied. He made the puppet's teeth chatter and its tail wag back and forth. "Come on sexy, let me _ravage _you," he chided.

"Ugh, knock it off!" Deidara exclaimed, an unwanted grin tugging the corners of his lips. "That is _so _disgusting!"

"You know you want it," the puppet rumbled.

X X X

After traveling at a grueling speed for a day and a half, Kisame allowed himself some time to rest. He had finally gotten past the barren flats of the Land of Earth, and was grateful for the thick grass that now covered the ground. There were a few small groves of trees here and there - he stopped in the midst of of one and sat down at the base of a maple.

"Here you go," he mumbled to Samehada, unraveling its bindings so it could scoot around in the grass. The sword was relaxed and almost comically blissful, happy just to be alone with its master. It had been edgy and fitful in the village, probably afraid that a stranger was going to attack after what Itachi had done to them. Now it showed no signs of distress as it shimmied through the tall grass - it had likely forgotten about the incident altogether.

The same couldn't be said for Kisame... now that he wasn't distracted by booze and mindless sex, the sickening reality of what had happened to him was finally sinking in. Nightmarish memories of the other night flashed through his mind as he tended to his injuries, applying the nurse's salve to his frostbite and carefully rewrapping the blackened extremities with fresh bandages. He had lost a few nails already and patches of dead skin were beginning to peel away, exposing raw flesh. It was gruesome to endure but he had become set on healing naturally, afraid that his rage towards Itachi would diminish with the wounds. He knew that it was a sick mindset - holding onto anger like this was unhealthy and dangerous - yet he didn't want to let go of it, not even for a second. Perhaps he was afraid that when the anger faded, it would be replaced with something even worse. He vaguely remembered someone telling him once about the process of grief. There was denial, anger, maybe guilt... and a bunch of other stages he had forgotten. _It ends with acceptance, _he told himself. _Maybe that's what I'm afraid of... I don't ever want to accept this._

Once his frostbite was attended to, he tilted back his head and rinsed out his injured eye with an antiseptic solution. The chance it could get infected was fairly high, so he'd been keeping it covered with his headband. It twitched painfully as he doused it with the solution and the sunlight was too bright on his sensitive retina. It gave him a mild satisfaction to know that Itachi was nursing an equally painful shiner, not to mention his and Samehada's respective bite wounds. _But it's not enough,_ he seethed. _I wish he was disfigured beyond recognition! _ Sighing, he tried to stifle his rage as he capped the antiseptic and put it back in the bag. _These emotions are going to get me killed, _he told himself bleakly. _Or worse, Deidara. _

He pulled out a loaf of bread, making himself eat a few bites. He'd never had much of an appetite - he was known for picking at his food more than eating it - but it had dwindled even more since the incident, seeming to actually get worse as time passed. It made his stomach clench involuntarily every time he put something in his mouth, and he kept gagging with revulsion while he tried to swallow, unable to push away the thought of Itachi's cock down his throat. The fact that he'd been kicked repeatedly in the stomach might be a contributing factor, but he wasn't sure. He forced himself to keep down the bit of bread, fighting a strong urge to vomit. _Itachi, you bastard!_ he raged, his mouth and eyes watering.

After the waves of nausea subsided, he took a short nap before continuing the journey. It did little to restore him, though - he dreamt that someone was beating the very life out of him and he was powerless to stop it. He awoke in a cold sweat, his bruised ribs aching.

X X X

By nightfall, Deidara and Sasori were deep within the Land of Fire, far south and east of Konoha. The forest they'd been traveling through was becoming increasingly lush and vibrant, thick with ferns, tropical flowers and twisting, moss-covered trees. It was beautiful enough for Deidara to temporarily stop seething about Kisame - he found himself feeling a childish wonderment at the thick, exotic foliage and abundance of wildlife. He knew Sasori was getting a kick out of his naivite but he didn't care. Everything down here was just so much different than the barren Land of Earth he'd grown up in. It was so much more... _alive_.

"You gonna start chasing butterflies or what?" Sasori mused, watching the blonde's awed expression with a crooked grin. The redhead had been forced to shed Hiruko - the undergrowth was too thick for the puppet's bulk.

"Don't ruin this for me," Deidara said, his eyes wide. "And I might be tempted to... if I see one. Do butterflies go to sleep at night?"

"Umm... yah... maybe you could chase a moth or something," Sasori mumbled as he pulled out a map and examined it. "We covered a lot of ground today," he said. "We should be hitting the eastern coast of the Fire Country sometime tomorrow morning... and then all we have to do is follow the coast to the meeting site." He held out the map a little as Deidara curiously peeked over his shoulder at it. "So what do you want to do?" he asked. "Do you want to rest now or wait until we reach the coast?"

"Wow, you're actually giving me a choice?" the blonde said dryly.

"Don't push it," Sasori growled as he rolled up the map and stuck it back in his cloak. "I'm trying to be nice to you, incase you didn't notice."

A million sarcastic responses flickered over Deidara's tongue but he held them back. "I guess I'd rather rest now," he finally said. "I'll wind up eating shit trying to walk through this forest in the dark." He looked around the scenery with slightly less wonderment as he scanned the thick, bristling undergrowth for a place to lay down.

"You're probably better off sleeping in a tree," Sasori stated, following his partner's gaze. "You'll get bitten by something if you lay on the ground."

"Hmm," Deidara said, pondering the fact. He'd heard that the more tropical an environment was, the larger and scarier the insects... although Iwa had its fair share of pissed off, poisonous creatures as well. He couldn't imagine anything worse than the hairy wolf spiders native to his homeland. Did the jungle have even biggier, hairier spiders? _I don't wanna know,_ he thought to himself.

His train of thought dispersed when Sasori nimbly climbed the nearest tree, jumping lightly from branch to branch until he was little more than a red-headed speck far above the blonde's head. Deidara sighed and followed his partner's lead, ascending a nearby tree until he could see the starry night sky through the canopy.

"I'll keep watch," Sasori stated to the blonde, now that they were level.

Deidara peered down - he couldn't even see the forest floor. "What if I fall?" he asked. He wasn't afraid of hights when he was flying... but this was a different situation entirely.

Sasori - to the blonde's surprise - wasn't smirking. "I'll catch you," he said simply.

"Seriously?" Deidara asked incredulously.

"I told you, don't push it," the redhead growled.

X X X

Kisame didn't stop for another break until dawn, running himself ragged until his bruised ribs ached too badly to ignore any longer. He stopped at a small river that ran through the ever thickening forest, catching his breath for a few minutes before tending to his injuries._ I'm just a few miles north of Konoha, _he realized, recognizing the geography immediately as he took note of his surroundings - he'd been through the Land of Fire so many times there wasn't a square inch he wasn't familiar with. _ I'm too close to the village... _he told himself wearily. _I shouldn't rest here._

But his aching body begged to differ. If he kept going in his current state, he'd wind up opening himself up for an attack in his exhaustion. It was safer to rest here for an hour or so than it would be to blindly push ahead, although neither option was ideal. He'd been so fatigued over the last few hours that he had strayed off his intended course, winding up a few miles east of where he wanted to be. He sighed, rubbing his temples, then unraveled Samehada's binds, letting the creature swim around in the river while he dressed his wounds. He considered taking a bath but thought better of it - getting ambushed by Leaf ninja while he was naked was not something he cared to experience.

Once his injuries were clean and rebandaged, he called for Samehada, making the sword lay at his side for protection. This time, his exhaustion was too great to give him nightmares - he dreamt instead of the nurse doting on him, which wasn't entirely unpleasant.

He awoke to the sound of growling. As he forced himself into full awareness, he found Samehada bristling defensively at his side - but the growl was coming from somewhere else. _Wolves_, he realized, recognizing the sound in a heartbeat. As he rose to his feet, trying not to act as injured as he felt, he could see shadows flickering behind the cover the trees. _Looks like a whole pack, _he thought irritably. Anywhere else in the world, wolves didn't pose a threat - they rarely attacked humans and weren't very smart - but near Konoha it was a different story. Wolves around here were tamed and bred by the Inuzuka clan. He clenched Samehada's hilt in his bandaged hands, trying to look for the human that was behind this.

"I thought I smelled shark." The voice was instantly familiar; Kisame laughed outloud but didn't relax his guard.

"How've you, been, Tsume?" he growled. "I must say it's been a while."

"Over a decade, I believe." Tsume Inuzuka stepped forward from the tree line, a huge wolf at her side. She looked as frightening as ever, her appearance more animalistic than human. "Damn, you're looking pretty rough these days," she stated bluntly.

"I'm injured," Kisame sighed. "I don't just walk around covered in bandages for no reason." He scowled and added, "and you look about the same... like a snarling, man-eating bitch."

Tsume grinned, baring her prominent fangs. "You're in no position to talk shit," she growled. "I have you outnumbered."

"What, I thought 'bitch' was a compliment in your clan," Kisame said dryly. "And you don't have me outnumbered. If you attack me, I'll kill all your fuckin' wolves then probably... I don't know... slowly drown you in this shallow river. Believe me, I'm in a shitty mood."

"Wow," Tsume muttered. "You're even more of an asshole than I remember." She pulled out a kunai and took another step forward. "I guess it comes with being an _outlaw_. I was disappointed when I learned you'd joined the Akatsuki... I thought you were better than that."

Kisame snorted, offended for reasons he couldn't put his finger on. "Shinobi are just weapons," he growled. "Kirigakure tossed me aside and the Akatsuki picked me up, nothing more... so what does it matter if I'm being wielded by someone else now?" He sighed, exhausted and annoyed. "Either way, I'm not up for a deep conversation," he said. "And I have no business with Konoha at the moment. I'm just passing through."

"Sorry if I don't believe you," Tsume replied, bristling. "You're too close to be 'just passing through.' And if I'm correct, the last time you were here, you infiltrated the village and put one of our finest shinobi in the hospital."

"That was Itachi, not me... all I managed to do was get kicked by Might Guy," Kisame said. "And do you seeItachi anywhere? Or... _smell _him, in your case?"

Tsume shrugged but didn't relax her guard. "Maybe he already has me in a genjutsu," she growled. "How would I even know? He's skilled enough to cripple _Kakashi_."

Kisame sighed and leaned back against a tree. "Believe me, I'm aware of his abilities," he muttered. "Whether or not you're convinced, I have nothing to hide... so either fight me or don't."

A long, tense silence ensued as Tsume seemed to reflect, her red-shadowed eyes narrowing slightly. "Alright," she finally growled. "I'll let you leave... but I'm going to escort you out of the village boundaries." She relaxed her defensive stance but kept the kunai clenched in her fist. "I'm only doing this because I want to respect you as a shinobi," she snarled. "So don't make me regret it."

She called off the wolf pack, leaving only the large black-and-white one at her side. _ Why the hell would you put an eye patch on an animal?_ Kisame wondered irritably as he glared at the beast. _ It's almost as bad as making a lapdog wear a sweater._

Being escorted by Tsume was not a pleasant experience. His injuries combined with dizzying fatigue made him travel at a slower pace than she was comfortable with - every time he paused to catch his breath, he was speared onward with the tip of her kunai. When he was finally far enough away for her satisfaction, he slumped to a crouch, breathing raggedly.

Tsume regarded him for a while as he pathetically gasped for air and clutched his aching ribs, the expression on her face conveying something in between pity and disgust. "What the hell _happened _to you?" she finally snarled. "You're nothing like the strong shinobi I remember... more like a whipped dog."

"I'm injured, you bitch," he heaved, sweat pouring down his forehead.

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid," Tsume snapped. "It's obviously more than that." When she crouched down next to him, her searching glare made him feel uncomfortable and mildly embarrassed. "You've always been my enemy," she growled softly. "But that doesn't stop me from wondering about you. To see you this way just... _pisses me off_."

"Well, too bad," Kisame hissed, shying away from her intense gaze. "It's ridiculous that you think about me at all."

Tsume tried to put a hand on his shoulder but quickly pulled away when he winced and shuddered. The look in her eyes made him feel like slitting his own throat.

"You're angry... and afraid," she stated. "I can smell it on you like a sickness."

"Gross," Kisame murmured. Exhaustion was numbing his senses, making his vision blur and his sore muscles tingle. "Just leave me alone, Tsume," he growled. "I'm not the same person you remember..."

"Who did this to you?" she demanded.

"It's none of you're fuckin' business," the swordsman rasped. He clumsily sat himself down, bumping his head on a tree as his muscles buckled. "I just want to be alone," he sighed raggedly. "So fuck off."

"Fine," Tsume snapped, briskly rising to her feet. "Maybe if you weren't such a _prick_, this wouldn't have happened to you." She looked revolted and a little sad as she sheathed her kunai. "All these years, I've been clinging onto the hope that we'd run into eachother again," she confessed. "In these daydreams, you're a strong and vicious shinobi, making the men of Konoha pale in comparison as you... I don't know... _whisk me away_. But now I see that I was dillusional, because the man before me is just a cowering piece of _shit_."

"And you wonder why you scare men away," Kisame snarled, feeling wretched and impotent.

"I scare them away because they're all too weak," Tsume stated. "And now I finally see that you're no different. I almost want to thank you - you've dashed my hopes completely of ever finding a man strong enough to satisfy me. I suppose it's given me some closure." She turned to leave, growling a command to the wolf. "I need to get back to my family," she said. "If you're still here when I return, you'll have a fight on your hands."

"Oh, your family," Kisame murmured. "How's your son? You mentioned him last time we met... he must be in his teens now."

"Kiba is growing up to be a brilliant shinobi," Tsume replied. "And I can only _pray _he doesn't end up like you."

And then she was gone.

Kisame felt too wretched for words - he welcomed the ignorance of sleep as it quickly took hold. Unfortunately, he dreamed of Tsume, reliving their long-ago encounter with painful clarity. He was a Kiri shinobi back then, on a stealth mission to assassinate a Konoha figurehead. Tsume had tracked him down a few miles outside of the village, killing off his squad and quite literally treeing him with her pack of wolves. After a brief, vicious fight, they had found themselves locked in a standoff, snarling at eachother like a couple of animals. The sex that ensued had been wordless and violent, an experience that left them both dumbfounded and weak-kneed. For a while, they had just laid there in a tangle of naked limbs, too dazed to bother trying to fight any more. Finally she had told him, with brutal conviction, _The only reason I'm letting you go is because I want to see you again. Perhaps... someday... the time will come when we're no longer enemies._

Kisame had been enamoured with Tsume for a long time after that, hoping that eventually Kiri and Konoha would form a pact so that he could meet her as a comrade. But his life took a different turn - when the two shinobi villages finally agreed upon a truce, he had already started working for the Akatsuki. _ It just wasn't meant to be, _he used to tell himself... but the dashed opportunity always left him wondering what could have been. Maybe they could have started a life together. Maybe he could have made her his wife and been a father to her children. As time passed, the fantasies of ever achieving a normal, domestic life with Tsume - let alone anyone - became more and more incredulous until he stopped thinking about it altogether. But the woman's words had still cut him to the bone. He awoke in a cold sweat, miserable to a nearly suicidal degree.

_She's right,_ he brooded as he rose to his feet. _I brought this hell on myself._ He was still tired and so hungry it was making him feel sick, but he forced himself to push onward. Stopping to rest had done nothing to refresh him - infact, he was positive that he felt even worse than before. His anger was waning despite his best efforts to cling onto it, morphing into something much worse - guilt. _Fuck you, Tsume, _he seethed. _Why'd you have to be so honest?_

X X X

By the time he reached the meeting site in the Tea Country, he wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore. How long had he traveled without stopping? Five days, maybe even six? He'd heard that it was possible to ride a horse until it fell over dead with sheer exhaustion... it was the closest analogy he could think of to what he'd been doing to himself. Resting only brought him anguish - spurred on by his own miserable emotions, he had run until his brain could no longer process thought. Now that he was here with nowhere else to go, he was afraid the maddening guilt would return. Part of him wanted to just keep going until he reached the gates of hell.

He sat himself down at the water's edge, looking blandly out to sea. He hadn't seen the ocean in a long time... he would have appreciated the view if he were any less screwed up. _Where the fuck is everyone else? _he wondered. _ There's no way I'm the first one here. _However, he wasn't entirely sure of the fact - he doubted that anyone else had set such a ridiculously grueling pace.

_Ugh, there's nothing to do but wait, _he told himself. It was a good thing he was too tired to be distressed about seeing Itachi... though he wasn't sure it what he'd do when he actually saw his partner in person. Maybe he'd just snap and blindly attack the Uchiha like a rabid dog... or perhaps he'd start crying like a bitch. _Hopefully it won't be the latter, _he thought as he laid down in the sand and closed his eyes. _I'm more worried about seeing Deidara at this point, _he brooded. _He's going to try to wrench the truth out of me... and I'm not a very good liar._

Mere seconds later, he found himself too tired to hold his train of thought. He fell asleep to the rhythmic sound of the waves lapping the shore.


	10. Chapter 10

Deidara hadn't been to the coast since he was a child. His parents (who were both deceased now) had taken him to a beach in the Land of Fire when he was five... all he could remember about the experience was that he had been swept under by a wave, leaving him bawling and choking on seawater.

Now, as he stood barefoot on the shore and gazed out at the ocean, the waves looked far less intimidating. _How could such a small current have pulled me under back then? _he mused. _Sure, I'm taller now... but not by much. _He quickly stripped down to his boxers, tossing his clothes into a messy pile. The only thing preventing him from getting completely nude was Sasori, who was undoubtedly leering at him from the cover of a nearby dune.

He bounded into the ocean with poorly restrained enthusiasm, trying not to laugh outloud at the delightful feel of the cool water against his skin. When he was past the breaking point of the waves, he pushed off and let himself float, gazing up at the puffy clouds as the rolling tide rose and fell beneath him. _If I live through this Akatsuki bullshit, I'm going to retire on the coast, _he thought. _ I bet Kisame would like that, too..._

He floated for a long time, relishing in the serenity of it. Once in a while, he'd shift his gaze to the coast, just to make sure the current wasn't carrying him too far. Surrounded by cerulean blue both above and below, it took him a minute to register that he'd spotted something blue on the shore. He was too far away to make out what it was... maybe it was a beached shark?

When he swam in close enough to see that it was Kisame, he would have laughed at the irony if he wasn't so shocked. He quickly made it to the shore, wading awkwardly then running until he made it to the swordsman's side.

Kisame looked like a corpse. If it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest, Deidara would have immediately assumed the worst. The swordsman was disturbingly thin, as if the hot coastal sun had somehow been evaporating him, and his injuries were simply _horrific_. His left eye was swollen past the point of a stereotypical shiner, looking far worse up close than it had at the meeting, and the bandages on his fingers and toes were so poorly wrapped that the gruesome wounds beneath were partially exposed. _That's frostbite_, Deidara immediately deduced. His homeland was notoriously cold at times so he'd seen his fair share of blackened extremities, gangrene, and amputations. _The way he's tending to it, he'll wind up with twenty useless stubs, _the blonde brooded. _Why the hell hasn't he just healed himself with Samehada?_

He sank to a crouch and nervously brushed his wet hair out of his eyes. _Should I wake him up? _he wondered, unnerved by the thought of startling the swordsman... Kisame was so strong that he could reflexively reach out and snap a person's neck before even gaining consciousness. However, there was no doubt that the man was in a dire state. He looked like maybe he wouldn't wake up at all. With this in mind, Deidara swallowed his fears and tentatively gave the swordman's gilled shoulder a poke.

After a few more persistant pokes, Kisame muttered something incomprehensible then slowly opened his uninjured eye to a bloodshot slit. A moment passed during which he squinted at the blonde without a single sign of recognition. Finally, he snorted and cracked a lopsided grin.

"Deidara," he stated, his voice hoarse. "For a second I thought you were a fuckin' mermaid."

"Come on, now," Deidara said, feeling an equally crooked grin tug at his lips despite the grimness of the situation. "When I saw a blue lump on the beach, I thought you were a beached shark." He wanted to say _I thought you were dead _but held his tongue.

Kisame snorted. "You realize sharks aren't blue, right?" he replied. "They're mostly grey."

Deidara narrowed his eyes slightly as he pondered the fact. "Then why the hell are _you _blue?" he finally asked.

"I'm blue because the Land of Water has a fucked up gene pool," the swordsman sneered. "It's an isolated island full of bored, horny freaks... so I'm probably lucky I'm not an inbred retard."

"What about your parents?" Deidara pried. "Were they... _normal _colored?"

"For crying out loud..." Kisame muttered, wincing as he rose to a sitting position. "You haven't seen me in weeks and right off the bat you start prying into my family history?" He unraveled Samehada's binds with a practiced ease - the creature sped toward the ocean like a rabid centipede and quickly disappeared into the water. It obviously didn't like being used as a pillow.

"Sorry," Deidara said. "I'm just... naturally curious." He reached out and tentatively took one of Kisame's bandaged hands in his. The contact caused the swordsman to suddenly flinch and divert his eyes, his jagged grin vanishing like it was never there. _What the hell? _Deidara wondered, shocked and slightly appalled. _It's like he's afraid to be touched! _For a minute he couldn't even think of anything to say as his brain scrambled for an answer.

"Knock it off," the swordsman growled.

"Knock _what _off?" Deidara snapped. "I didn't even do anything!"

"You're about to start interrogating me about my injuries..." Kisame bluntly replied. "And I'm not in the mood to talk about it. So don't even bother, alright?"

"Well... fuck you too, hmm?" the blonde stated, offended. "There's no need for you to be such a _dick_. I'm just worried about your frostbite. Your fingers are gonna rot if you continue to neglect them."

"No shit," Kisame growled, his tone failing to imply whether it was a question (no _shit_?) or a statement. Either way, he sounded sullen and slightly embarrassed.

"You're probably not going to tell me why the _hell _you haven't let Samehada heal you," Deidara said bitterly. "So just let me redress your wounds, alright? Believe it or not, I'm actually a decent medic."

Kisame sighed, shifting his headband so it covered up his shiner. "Fine," he relented. "But let's do it somewhere else... this fuckin' sand is getting annoying." As he rose to his feet, he growled and spit. "My mouth's all gritty," he mumbled. For a minute he just glared at the canvas bag next to him on the ground before expending the effort to stoop down and grab it.

"Stylin' bag," Deidara said, brushing the wet sand off his ass as he rose to his feet.

"I know, right?" Kisame replied, smirking a little. "It makes me feel kinda... _fashionable_."

They left the shore, retreating to the cover of some palm trees. Samehada reluctantly followed, leaving a wet trail in the sand as it shimmied awkwardly behind them. Both sword and swordsman looked exhausted - Deidara couldn't help but gawk at Kisame's emaciated appearance. _He's lost at least ten pounds, _he thought. _ I can see his damn ribcage! What the fuck is the matter with him?_ It was obvious something worse had happened to the swordsman than a mere beating, although Deidara couldn't begin to guess at what it was. Maybe Itachi had subjected him to another Tsukiyomi? The only thing Deidara was sure of was that the Uchiha was probably the one responsible - who else was frightening enough to emotionally scar a man like Kisame? _ When that bastard shows up, I'm gonna pound the truth out of him! _he seethed.

"I already told you to stop that," Kisame growled as he sat down on a boulder.

"Stop what?" Deidara asked sheepishly.

"You're all pissed off," the swordsman said. "It doesn't matter what happened, alright? So_ drop it_."

"Is it that obvious what I'm thinking?" Deidara huffed. "Everyone's been seeing right through me lately... I think that maybe I've turned to glass."

"Don't worry, you're quite opaque," Kisame mumbled as he rummaged through the bag and pulled out a canteen. "But when you clench your fists and curse under your breath, it's pretty easy to tell that you're angry." He took a drink from the canteen then passed it to Deidara.

"What's in this?" the blonde asked, taking it reluctantly.

"It's water, idiot," Kisame growled. "What, were you hoping it was sake?"

"Stop reading my mind!" Deidara snapped, embarrassed.

After he took a few sips of water, Kisame handed him the bag, which was full of medical supplies. _I wonder where he got all this stuff, _he wondered as he pulled out some antiseptic. Judging by how tight-lipped the swordsman was being, it was probably going to remain a mystery.

"This is going to take a while," he said as he took a seat next to Kisame on the boulder. "And it's probably going to hurt like hell." Their legs were touching and he had to bite down hard on his lip to prevent himself from getting an instant erection. He'd been lusting over the swordsman constantly since they'd parted ways, masturbating to the thought of blue lips on his cock every chance he got. It was bordering on an unhealthy obsession - if it weren't for Kisame's scarred mental state, he'd be on the man like a bitch in heat. To say he was disappointed by the swordsman's aversion to physical contact would be a huge understatement.

"Just get it over with," Kisame muttered, unwrapping his bandages to reveal the blackened mess of his extremities.

"Whatever," Deidara sighed. "You're obviously enjoying torturing yourself with these wounds, or else you would have just healed yourself days ago, hmm?"

"I'm not enjoying it, asshole," the swordsman growled. "I'm just..." he trailed off and cursed under his breath.

"You're just a fucking _wreck_," the blonde stated acidly. "I wish you'd tell me what the hell happened!"

"Well... too bad," Kisame replied, flinching skittishly when Deidara took his hand.

"Ugh, fine," the blonde spat as he reached for the antiseptic. "I'll find out one way or another. Either way, this is going to take at least an hour, so you should entertain me with a story or something. If I get too bored, I might accidentally snap off one of your half-dead fingers."

"Are you being serious?" Kisame growled. "Either way, I'm a terrible storyteller. You're better off just thinking something up on your own."

Deidara grinned a little and shook his head. "Nope," he said. "You're gonna tell me about your childhood. Consider it compensation for being so friggin tight-lipped. I've always wondered what you were like when you were a kid. I bet you were _adorable_."

The swordsman snorted. "I've never been adorable," he stated dryly. "And my childhood was pretty unremarkable. It'll probably put you to sleep if I tell you about it."

"No it won't," the blonde said, a little too quickly. He felt a blush heat his cheeks - if Kisame knew the full extent of his creepy infatuation, he'd probably run away screaming.

"Feh, if you insist," the swordsman relented. "But I swear to you, it's not much of a story."

X X X

When Kisame was a kid, there was nothing unusual about being an orphan. The Land of Water was in a state of absolute chaos, crippled by civil war and frequent battles with the other great nations, so poverty, raids, and genocide-style executions swept through villages like the plague. The mortality rate of both children and adults was extremely high... as a result, Kisame was just one amongst many kids who grew up with no inkling of who their parents were and the bitter assumption that they were dead. His plight was so common that there wasn't even any point in agonizing over it. No one gave a shit about his problems so neither did he.

He considered Kirigakure his hometown but he wasn't born there - some Kiri shinobi had found him as an infant in the rubble of a ransacked coastal village. He'd been told that there weren't any other survivors, although he doubted the fact. The only reason they'd let him live was because of his massive amount of chakra... anyone else clinging to life had probably been put out of their misery. After all, this was back when Kirigakure had been known as the infamous Village of the Bloody Mist. Empathy wasn't really one of their strong points.

Despite the fact that Kiri saw Kisame as an asset, his childhood was still pretty crappy. Children - especially orphans - were treated as little more than nuisances until they were old enough to be useful. He lived in a shitty orphanage for a while, penned in with a bunch of other malnourished, pissed off kids, then got his own, slightly less shitty efficiency once he was old enough to work. This was around the same time he entered the ninja academy - he couldn't pinpoint his exact age back then, but he'd been a few years younger than his classmates. Age wasn't a big deal in Kiri. The only thing that mattered was whether or not you were old enough to hold a kunai.

Ninja school was a breeze... it was almost too easy. Even though he was working on the side to support himself, he still excelled in all his classes, making his peers look like whiny brats in comparison. And in many ways, they were - most of them had been raised from wealthy, stable households, the daughters and sons of influential shinobi clans that considered ninja school more of a formality than a necessity. Orphans, while common in the streets, were a rarity in the academy - most of them ended up becoming thieves or whores. In this aspect, Kisame was somewhat of an anomaly, granted entry only because of his biju-like chakra.

While Kisame sometimes wondered what it would be like to have a family, he didn't envy the lifestyle. Kids raised in comfort and safety were weak and spoiled - they cried a lot and threw tantrums when something was too difficult. If this was what children were supposed to act like, Kisame had no problem with being abnormal. As they got older, they cried less and didn't throw as many tantrums, instead forming dumb little cliques that excluded him. They were afraid to say anything to his face but they all percieved him as a threat, and so they talked shit about him from a comfortable distance. The class moved inevitably toward the notorious, deadly graduation and with the passage of time, the fear and the hatred grew until there were actual attempts on his life - all failed, obviously. Kisame wondered what the point was. _ If I die, you assholes are just going to have to kill eachother to graduate, _he thought. Perhaps it was better to be killed by one's friends?

Graduation finally came. Kisame would never forget the expressions on his classmates' faces - some of them had reverted back to small children, bawling and snotty, others were paper-pale and trembling like dry leaves, a few were somehow crying and throwing up simultaneously. _ This is the day we're supposed to sever our bonds, _he thought to himself. _Doesn't have the same effect when there's no bonds to sever, does it? _He felt none of his classmates' anxiety... in fact, he felt nothing at all, just a vague anticipation. When the graduation was over, he was standing aloofly in a puddle of his peers' blood, unable to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face as he mechanically cleaned the soiled blade of his katana. The reactions from the judge's panel were varied - some of the judges looked absolutely horrified while others looked smitten, already plotting his use as a shinobi. One of the smitten ones was none other than Fukugi Suikazan, a local legend and the wielder of the Great Blade Samehada.

He had barely tied on his shinobi headband when Fuguki confronted him, wanting him for his own. Back then, the legendary swordsman had been thin and quite handsome - his long hair and sweeping robes made him appear intimidating yet strangely effeminate, as if he might seduce an enemy before going in for the kill. Kisame was rather tongue-tied as Fuguki gave him his proposal. "You're perfect for the kind of missions I carry out," he said. "Work for me and in return, I'll personally train you to wield the Great Blades. Your skills will fall to waste under these other idiots."

It had sounded great... and in a way, it was. Feminine appearance aside, Fuguki was a ruthless instructor, kicking his ass when he slipped up and forcing him to train until he dropped from exhaustion. The jobs were equally difficult - he didn't get the luxury of simple D-Rank missions to start out with. Fuguki put him on A and S-Rank right out the gate, giving him a bingo book with certain heads circled for emphasis. Difficult as his life was, he enjoyed the challenge, although he was still pretty broke most of the time. Fuguki paid him directly and he suspected that the man was taking a cut for himself.

By the time he was fifteen, he had achieved the rank of jounin and earned himself the questionable title 'Monster of the Hidden Mist.' His enthusiasm for bloodshed and skill on the battlefield had made him quite famous, although his peers were still afraid to befriend him. It didn't bother him, though - he accredited his success partially to his lack of bonds, convinced that having friends to confide in would only make him weak. The one person he was somewhat close to was Zabuza, a crazy bastard child a few years his junior whose eagerness to become a shinobi had shut down the entire graduation system. The boy had killed off an entire class with only a cheap sword and self-taught skill, resulting in a mass funeral instead of a graduation ceremony.

To say Zabuza and Kisame became friends would be an exaggeration - they were both too cold to form a deep relationship. It was only on the training field that they'd truly understand eachother, catching glimpses of regrets and ambitions with the furious exchange of blows. The two were like icons for the warlike shinobi village - ruthless, emotionless, and frighteningly efficient in every aspect. Everyone looked up to them but no one envied them.

"So... that's about it," Kisame stated. "Like I said, it's not much of a story."

"What?" Deidara huffed. "Why'd you stop? I wanna know what happened after that!"

"If you read about me in a bingo book, you should already know what happened," the swordsman growled. "I did Kirigakure's dirty work, slaying my comrades for the overall benefit of the village. My final mission was to slay Fuguki, who had begun selling information to the enemy, going against everything he had taught me. He also got _really _fat... growing into his 'pufferfish demon' name, I suppose. Or perhaps it came with being a corrupt, opulent piece of shit? Who knows. Either way, when the Mizukage ordered me to kill him, I think his disgusting appearance made it easier for me to take his life. But that's beside the point. Despite the underlying good I was doing for Kiri, the nature of my missions forced me to flee. After I escaped the village, I joined the Akatsuki... and here I am. As for Zabuza, he went rogue soon after I did and ended up getting himself killed by Konoha ninja. That's it. The end, or whatever you want me to say."

Deidara reflected on the story for a while, chilled by it. He'd heard bits and pieces about the notorious Bloody Mist Village but hearing about it from first-hand experience was a lot more intense. It made Iwagakure look like a damn playground. And he'd also heard of Zabuza - although the stories were mixed. "Hey, I heard that Zabuza was a bit of a... I dunno... a _fruitloop_," he said. "Like... he was into little boys?"

"Who the hell told you that?" Kisame snapped.

"Sasori," the blonde replied, shrugging as if to say 'obviously.'

"Well Sasori doesn't know what the hell he's talking about," the swordsman snarled. "Zabuza was not a _fruitloop_, as you so eloquently put it. Shit, that's just ridiculous." He sighed and shook his head, almost comically offended. "You should treat the dead with respect," he muttered.

"Hey, Sasori's the one who said it, not me," Deidara said defensively.

"Well you shouldn't believe everything that asshole tells you," Kisame stated. "For crying out loud, that's just... _low_."

"Oh, calm down," Deidara said. "This is Sasori we're talking about here. You know how he is."

"He's in no position to talk," Kisame growled. "Thirty-something years old, walking around in that teenage puppet body. Fuckin' creepy."

"Woah there," Deidara mused, squinting a little as he carefully wrapped the swordsman's fingers in fresh bandages. "Don't bash on someone for talking shit then do it yourself."

"Well, Sasori's not dead," Kisame replied, grinning a little. "So... up until he kicks the bucket, I can say whatever I want about him."

"Is that so?" growled a voice that was coming from neither of their lips.

Startled, both men turned around to find Sasori a few feet away, scowling with his arms crossed. "It's not nice to talk shit about people behind their backs," he stated accusingly.

"Fine, I'll say it to your face then," Kisame sneered. "You're a creep. And keep your mouth shut about Zabuza, you hear me? He was not a _pedophile_!"

"Bullshit," Sasori said. "I saw him a few years ago... he was traveling with a little boy who dressed like a girl! If that's not creepy, I don't know what is."

"That kid's name was Haku," Kisame stated lividly. "And if he was still alive, he'd kick your rumor-starting ass. I think you're the pedo... you twisted everything up with your perverted imagination!"

"Eat a dick, Kisame," the redhead sneered, causing the swordsman to wrinkle his nose in disgust. "And by the way, you look like shit. What happened, did you get gang-raped or something?"

"Mention sex to me one more time, asshole," Kisame growled. "I swear I'll... _disassemble _you."

"I'd like to see you try," Sasori stated, narrowing his eyes.

"Ugh, cut it out, you two," Deidara sighed. "Sasori, leave us alone. Can't you see I'm trying to bandage his wounds?"

"Right, like that's all you're trying to do," the redhead growled, his voice betraying jealous rage. It was obvious the patience he'd been trying so hard to maintain during their journey had reached its limit. "Air-headed _slut_," he hissed, the words dripping with malice.

"Um..." Deidara stammered, his face hot. "That's not-"

"_Excuse me_?" Kisame snapped at the puppetmaster, both cutting Deidara off and startling him at the same time. "What the _fuck _did you just say?" His glare was absolutely murderous as he rigidly rose to his feet, his bandaged hands flexing at his sides. Despite his wounds and his gaunt appearance, the swordsman was still frightening as hell, towering threateningly over the redhead. "Take it back. _Now_," he said.

As the two glared at eachother, Deidara shivered, his heart pounding in his chest. He was shocked that Kisame was so readily defending his honor... it would actually be romantic if it wasn't so terrifying. _Damnit, Sasori, _he fretted. _ Apologize before he *kills* you! _While the redhead was definitely strong, there was no doubt that Kisame was stronger - especially with the advantage of the terrain. Considering the glares the two were exchanging, the dispute could result in Sasori's artificial corpse washing ashore with the tide. And no matter what an asshole the puppetmaster could be at times, he didn't deserve to _die _over it.

_I knew these two were going to end up at eachother's throats... _the blonde brooded. _I'd intervene if I thought it would do any good._ As it was, he'd probably just end up getting caught in the crossfire.

"Fuck off, Kisame," Sasori finally hissed. "You're obviously in no condition to fight me." His hand was poised at the collar of his coat, ready to shed the garment the second things became violent.

"You sure about that?" Kisame growled. "Open your eyes," he said, gesturing at the nearby ocean. "Can't you see your disadvantage? Just apologize before I _end _you_._"

Another long pause ensued as the two continued to stare eachother down with murder in their eyes. Sasori's gaze flickered briefly to the ocean then back - after another tense minute or two he finally eased his defensive stance and sighed. "You're lucky we're on the coast," he growled. "I just don't feel like getting saltwater all in my joints... believe me, if this were anywhere else, I'd take you on in a _heartbeat_." The puppetmaster's ability to back down while upholding his enormous ego was amazing.

"_Apologize_," Kisame snarled. "And look at him while you do it."

"Oh, for crying out loud..." Sasori mumbled, rolling his eyes dramatically before glaring over at the blonde. "Deidara, you're not an air-headed slut, alright? I'm just in a terrible mood, incase you didn't notice."

"Why?" Deidara asked timidly.

Sasori didn't say anything in response, he just gestured wildly as if to say, _why do you think?_ He turned to leave, cursing under his breath. "By the way, where the hell is Itachi?" he said. "I thought he'd be with you, Kisame."

"No clue," Kisame curtly responded, still tense with anger. "We split up days ago."

"Huh," Sasori mumbled. "That sucks. I want to get this shitty mission over with." With that said he left, stalking rigidly through the coastal forest until he was out of sight.

"Well... that was uncomfortable," Deidara sighed. When he saw that Kisame was now glaring at him, he cringed and looked away.

"Why does Sasori know about us?" the swordsman growled. "Did you forget it was supposed to be a secret?"

"No, I didn't _forget_," the blonde snapped, his face hot. "Sasori saw that damn bite mark - he ripped the bandage off my neck while I was sleeping!"

Kisame snorted. "Ridiculous," he muttered. "You know, you're partly the reason Itachi found out, too."

"Wait... _what_?" Deidara exclaimed.

As the swordsman briefly explained the details of the spying mission, Deidara felt too embarrassed for words. _ Kurotsuchi, you bitch! _he fretted. _Why would you still talk about how I'm obsessed with Kisame? Get a life, already! _And Akatsuchi was no better... still dumb as a brick, clinging to childish moral values. Before Deidara had gone rogue, the oaf had been convinced that homosexuality was a cureable disease, repeatedly giving him the exact same 'it's not too late to change' speech like a councilor with down syndrome. _And they wondered why I left! _the blonde seethed. _ I can't believe that years later, those two are still making my life miserable!_

"So... Itachi _is _the one who did this to you," he stammered.

Kisame cursed under his breath and diverted his eyes. "You already knew that," he growled. "It would be pointless to lie to you." His face had become a stoic mask, as if he was afraid that he might divulge even more just by his expression.

"Well... what the hell happened?" Deidara demanded. He realized he was clenching his fists with anger and forced himself to relax. He was so furious he felt like he might faint.

Kisame shrugged. "We had a fight, obviously," he said. "And he kicked my ass."

"So... he gave you _frostbite _when he fought you?" the blonde asked. "Come on, you're a fuckin' wreck! Did he do that Tsukiyomi thing to you again?"

"Look, I just have an ability to drive him over the edge from time to time." the swordman sighed. "We've been around eachother almost constantly for several years... what do you expect?"

Deidara grated his teeth with frustration. Kisame was skirting around the truth, reciting rote responses that divulged nothing. Getting any real information out of him was like trying to get blood from a turnip. _I'll just have to ask Itachi, then, _he seethed. _When I'm done with him, he'll never lay a hand on Kisame again! _He looked back on his fight with Sasori, how it had ended up in a weird, borderline rape. For a few days after that, he had been too upset to eat - feeling rage and then guilt before finally reaching a bearable form of acceptance. _ Is that why Kisame's such a mess? _he wondered. _ Did Itachi..._

He cursed loudly and rose to his feet, too enraged to sit still. "I'm gonna go get my clothes," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. _ I want to have my clay ready for when that bastard shows up. _

As he turned to leave, Kisame suddenly grabbed his wrist. His grip was so tight it hurt. "I know what you're scheming," he growled.

"Ow, shit," Deidara gasped. He tried to wrench free but the grip only tightened. "Let go," he grated.

Kisame didn't let go. "Listen to me," he snarled. "If you try to fight Itachi, you'll have to go through me. Do you understand?" He sounded furious and slightly desperate.

"No, I don't understand," Deidara snapped, confused. "Why the fuck would you protect him?"

"I'm protecting you, not him," the swordsman growled. "I know this hurts your ego, but you're no match for Itachi. He's stronger than you think and he's also out of his fucking mind right now... if you start shit with him, he'll _murder _you without hesitation. _Do you understand_?" His appearance had suddenly shifted from passive to threatening - he looked absolutely terrifying.

Deidara averted his eyes, fighting down a wave of fear. "How did you expect me to react?" he said weakly. The grip around his wrist was becoming agonizing, cutting off the circulation to his hand.

"I expected you to react exactly like this," Kisame said. "So that's why I'm telling you. Don't fight Itachi. I'll break your arms if I have to!" It was clear in his tone that it wasn't an idle threat. "Now tell me you understand!" he urged.

"Fine, I understand!" Deidara heaved, wincing. "Now let go of me!" When Kisame finally released his grip, the blonde cursed and clutched his aching wrist. It hurt like hell, but his ego hurt even more. _He thinks I'm such a weakling, _he seethed. _ I'm not some child he needs to watch over! _"I need to be alone," he muttered. When he turned to leave this time, the swordsman didn't stop him.

X X X

The day passed slowly. Tension was so high it felt like electricity in the air. Deidara didn't go in the water again - he was afraid that Itachi would show up the second he got undressed. Despite Kisame's threats, he still wanted to be prepared for the worst. _I'm going to ask Itachi what happened regardless, _he thought._ If a fight ensues, I'll call it self-defense. He wouldn't break my arms over that, would he? _Despite reason telling him to keep his distance from the Uchiha, he couldn't help but plot for battle. He made sure he had enough clay and agonized over various strategies. Ever since his last fight with Itachi, he'd been training his left eye to counter sharingan, unbeknownst to his comrades. _I have a few edges that no one knows about, _he brooded. _Sharingan or not, he wouldn't be able to counter my C4 Karura..._

The thought of Itachi disintigrating into a bloody heap was so enticing it almost made him hard. Even the looming threat of Kisame - who was terrifying in battle - stepping in to stop him wasn't enough to dissuade him completely. Getting revenge on Itachi was something he wanted more than anything... whether it happened today or years down the road, ultimately nothing could prevent it.

Morning turned to afternoon, afternoon turned to evening, and still there was no sign of Itachi. _Perhaps he's afraid to fight me, _Deidara thought. _ No... that's ridiculous. Maybe he died or something! That would be disappointing. _He considered going and asking Kisame what the hold-up was but pushed away the thought. _ He doesn't know any better than I do, _he told himself. _We'll probably just end up having another dispute. _He hadn't seen Kisame or Sasori since earlier... everyone was too pissed off to interact with eachother.

When the sun finally set, Deidara felt a queue from Pain. He closed his eyes and answered, finding himself immediately in a cave surrounded by the other members. He looked around suspiciously to find everyone there but Itachi. _ Damnit, he *did* die, _he thought. _I jinxed myself!_

X X X

Kisame wasn't at all surprised not to find Itachi at the meeting. _ He's doing the same thing he did last time he fucked me up, _he thought bitterly. _He's hiding like a bitch._

Everyone started talking at once, various versions of 'where's Itachi?' It wasn't until Pain literally started shouting that they all shut up.

"Itachi's not going on the mission," their leader snapped, irritated. After another bout of mumbling and noise from the other members, he interjected, "He's taking some time off. The details don't concern you!"

"What the hell?" Hidan griped. "Why does _he _get time off? I haven't had a single break since I joined!"

"You only joined a few months ago," Kakuzu growled. "So quit whining."

"Like I said, the details don't concern you," Pain repeated. "You're to continue this mission without him."

"None of us are sensory types," Sasori pointed out. "It's going to make things a lot more difficult."

"Kisame's somewhat of a sensory type," Pain replied - the swordsman shrugged as if to say, _only somewhat. _"And Deidara should be able to find the compound from the sky."

"That's not the problem," the redhead insisted. "How are we supposed to know who's inside? Orochimaru could be in there with an entire army and we'd be clueless!"

"Yah, Samehada can pick up on chakra, but it can't tell me who it senses," Kisame said dryly. "We should just abort the mission. It's too risky."

"You're not aborting the mission," Pain insisted. "Hidan and Kakuzu are nearby if you need backup - just call a meeting if anything goes wrong."

"If we're being mauled by Orochimaru and his cronies, it's going to be difficult to call a meeting!" the swordsman growled. "This is ridiculous!"

"It's also an order," Pain snapped. "Now everyone disperse... except for you, Kisame."

Kisame sighed as the images of the other members disappeared. _Yah, this is exactly like what happened last time, _he brooded. _ Down to a tee. _

Something flickered next to Pain - Kisame was shocked when he saw that it was none other than Madara. He hadn't seen their leader since he'd left Kiri... he'd begun to think that the elusive man was just a figment of his imagination.

"It's been a while, Kisame," Madara said. His sharingan gave the swordsman a chill - it was brighter and somehow more malicious than Itachi's.

Kisame was so caught offguard that he was tongue-tied for a moment. Finally, he managed to stammer a formal greeting of some sort.

"I'm just here because I want to know what happened to Itachi," Madara continued. "You see, he's here with us in Amegakure... he came in looking like a drowned rat."

"That's probably because it was raining," Kisame said bitterly. Met with not one pair of intimidating eyes but two, he sighed and said, "I'm guessing he didn't tell you anything, or else you'd know that I'm not the one at fault here. Can't you tell that just by looking at me?"

"You look like you're indulging in self-pity," Madara stated bluntly. "Just get over yourself and let Samehada heal you."

"Itachi's a wreck," Pain added. "He's had a mental breakdown. You must have had something to do with it, so just tell us!"

"What the _fuck_," Kisame shouted, furious. "He beat me within an inch of my life and left me for dead, and that's _my _fault somehow? I'm the one who's a wreck here and you two just dote on Itachi like he's a goddamned _child!_"

"Watch your mouth," Madara snapped. "Say another insult and I'll kill you myself! You don't know a damn thing about Itachi and what he's been through!"

"It's not my fault he doesn't tell me anything," the swordsman growled. "Either way, we had an argument over something stupid and he just snapped, alright? After kicking me like a dog when I was down, he gave me one of his little 'if you seek revenge' speeches, then left me to freeze to death in a fuckin' cave! He's probably feeling guilt, if anything!"

Madara and Pain were silent for a moment as they both seemed to contemplate. _They're probably still trying to justify blaming me for this, _Kisame thought miserably. _This *is* just like last time, only there's two people interrogating me instead of one._ When Itachi had subjected him to the Tsukiyomi, it had been the same story. Even though the Uchiha had been the aggressor, he had wound up being perceived as the victim. Kisame was certain that the reason was mostly physical - he was the sharky brute while Itachi was the innocent looking pretty boy. _I'm getting blamed because of my appearance, _he seethed. _They probably think I raped him! Oh, the irony!_

"Fine, I believe you," Madara finally said. "Itachi's been under a lot of stress... I suppose it wouldn't be below him to take it out on you. You do seem to bring out the worst in him sometimes."

_You have no idea,_ Kisame thought bitterly. "So he gets a break while I go blindly into a dangerous mission?" he said.

"We're not giving him a break," Madara snapped. "He simply isn't... _functioning_. Don't mistake this for some kind of Uchiha clan preference, alright?"

"So next time I'm feeling shitty, I can go to Amegakure and pity myself for a while?" the swordsman said sarcastically.

"Don't push it, Kisame," Madara growled. "And man up. You've been through worse."

"No, I haven't," Kisame curtly replied.

"I made you an Akatsuki member because you have a solid character," Madara stated. "Don't prove me wrong. It's bad enough that Itachi's down for the count right now... like trying to play shogi without all the pieces. If I lose another pawn, I'll be _pissed_! And for crying out loud, just _heal _yourself. No one wants to see your stupid wounds." And then he was gone.

For a minute Pain just stared at him before speaking. "I would have called off the mission if you weren't there," he finally said. "Don't shatter like Itachi did... weapons that break under stress are useless to the Akatsuki." He then followed Madara's lead and vanished, leaving Kisame with a mouthful of bitter responses.

_First Madara calls me a pawn, then Pain has to add in the weapon analogy, _he seethed. _But aparently Itachi can 'shatter' all he wants and still be considered useful._ Regradless of how unfair it was, Kisame didn't exactly disagree with either man's metaphore - he had accepted the fact that he was little more than a tool when he was just a child. _ I suppose I'm being a hypocrite, _he told himself. _ It's unprofessional to let myself waste away like this._

When he opened his eyes, he found Sasori and Deidara looming over him, as if they might divulge something from his unuttered conversation.

"Damnit, you two," he muttered. "Mind your own business."

"Where the hell is Itachi?" Deidara pressed, undaunted.

"Having a nervous breakdown somewhere," Kisame growled as he stiffly rose to his feet. "Now leave me alone... I just got bitched out by Pain for... I don't even _know _why. So I'm in no mood to talk." He deliberately left out the part about Madara... as far as he knew, Itachi, Kakuzu and Zetsu were the only others members who knew of their true leader's existance. Everyone else was kept in the dark to prevent the information from leaking, a reasonable precaution.

"Don't flatter yourself," Sasori sneered. "I don't give a shit about your problems. I just want to know when we can finally start this ridiculous mission."

Kisame sighed and popped his back. "Well, we have no choice but to start in the morning," he stated. "There's no point in searching around blindly in the dark."

"Fine," Sasori said. "I'm going to go tune up my puppets and think about how much I hate you." He strode off into the treeline, cursing under his breath.

"He's been a dick ever since we arrived here," Deidara explained, as if apologizing in the redhead's lieu. "The idea of us together bothers the hell out of him for some reason."

"If I was him, I'd be pissed off, too," Kisame said as he shifted Samehada on his back. "Someone as pretty as you, attracted to an ugly bastard like me... even I'm confused."

Deidara shrugged, blushing slightly. "I have a weird taste in men, what can I say?" he stammered. "I think you're fuckin' hot." When he reached out and touched Kisame's shoulder, it took the swordsman every ounce of willpower not to flinch. "Do you really have to be alone right now?" he asked shyly.

Kisame muttered a curse, too emotionally exhausted to know what he was feeling. "I'm sorry," he finally said, brushing Deidara's hand away. "I need some time to myself."

The expression on the blonde's face was the textbook definition of disappointment. "You've been by yourself all day!" he huffed. "Don't you miss me at all?"

Kisame shifted uncomfortably and looked out to the sea. "I guess," he muttered. "But I just can't handle being around anyone right now. I have too much on my mind." With that said, he turned and walked away, leaving Deidara standing alone on the beach. "And don't follow me," he growled over his shoulder.

He went back to his makeshift camp feeling like a worthless piece of shit. His coldness towards Deidara had actually shocked him - he didn't know he had it in him to be such a dick. As he sat down on the mat of palm fronds he had arranged over the ground, he was slightly disappointed that the blonde hadn't doggedly followed him. _Perhaps I've finally managed to drive him away, _he brooded. _I suppose it would be for his own good. _Nonetheless, the thought gave him no consolation - it made him feel worse, if that was even possible.

For a while, he was too embroiled in his own misery to do anything. He just sat still as stone, glaring at nothing in particular as terrible thoughts raced through his mind. All the things he usually blocked out were leaking into his consciousness - regrets, failed ambitions, that sinking feeling he got sometimes that he was falling off a cliff. He wished he had some booze... anything to take the edge off.

About half an hour passed before he finally let Samehada heal him. It was for the mission more than anything, although Madara had made him feel like an idiot for not doing it sooner. Honestly, he hadn't realized that his injuries had become so dire until Deidara brought attention to them. When the process was over, he blandly glanced over himself. The wounds were gone but he was still way too thin - neither he nor Samehada had very much chakra at the moment, relatively speaking. _I need to eat something_, he told himself. _This is getting ridiculous. _ But the idea of putting anything in his mouth still repulsed him to the point where just thinking about it made his stomach turn. Either way, he didn't even have any food - the bit he had bought at the beginning of his journey had gone bad days ago. While it would be easy enough to catch a few fish, it was even easier not to bother. The nuances of living that people usually did without thinking had become like unbearable tasks in his mind. He remembered waking up on the cold cave floor that one morning, slipping in and out of death's embrace. How easy it would have been just to succumb! Now, a week later, part of him wanted to feel it again, that welcoming sensation of just... _letting go_.

He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep until the feel of someone's finger poking his shoulder snapped him back into consciousness. His fist swung out before he could stop it, connecting with what felt like a face.

"Goddamnit, Kisame! What the _fuck!_"

The swordsman's eyes focused to find Deidara crouched at his side, scowling and clutching his mouth. A trickle of blood oozed through his fingers, black in the moonlight.

"Shit," he growled, rising to a sitting position. "You gotta stop waking me up like that."

"Obviously," Deidara huffed, his voice muffled against his hand. "That fuckin' hurt!"

Kisame sighed and shrugged, wondering bleakly if he had broken the blonde's jaw as he forced himself fully awake. "Sorry," he muttered. "But what the hell were you thinking?"

Deidara pulled his hand away and spit out a mouthful of blood. "I was thinking about how much I miss you, you _asshole_," he heaved, glaring at the swordsman accusingly. After a moment or so, his glare finally softened, replaced with the shy, nervous look Kisame had begun to recognize as his 'I have such a huge crush on you' face. "Well... I guess I wasn't thinking about much else," he stammered. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Whatever," Kisame sighed, too exhausted to feel guilty. He reached up and roughly probed the blonde's jawline, looking for a break. Luckily, it was still intact. "I thought I told you to leave me alone," he added blandly as he withdrew his hand.

"Fuck you, Kisame," Deidara said bitterly. "Isn't it obvious that I'm worried about you?"

"It is," Kisame stated. "And you need to stop. It's pointless to be concerned." He laid back down and looked up at the sky, noting half-heartedly that the moisture from the sea cloaked most of the stars. A small part of him was glad that Deidara had shown up but the rest just wanted him to go away. The feeling reminded him of the way animals crawled off to be alone while they died.

"Well then, I guess what I'm feeling is just pointless, then," Deidara murmured. "But I can't help it." He shifted a little and Kisame noticed out of the corner of his eye that the blonde was holding a bottle of sake. The fact that he hadn't noticed it sooner just proved that his senses were slipping due to starvation... the realization should have distressed him but it didn't.

"Where'd you get the sake?" he growled. "Did you burn down another encampment?"

Deidara laughed softly, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "No, you prick," he said. "I bought it a few days ago when Sasori and I passed through a village. I was saving it for a special occasion, hmm?"

"Meaning me?" Kisame asked increduously. "The last time we got drunk together, I fucked you so hard you bled!" When he saw that the blonde was blushing and biting his lip, he remembered that rough treatment was one of the brat's turn-ons. Sighing, he propped himself up on one elbow and snatched the bottle, uncorking it with his teeth. "We have a mission in the morning," he said blandly after he spat out the cork, trying to dissuade himself more than anything. _But I guess I don't give a shit,_ he thought, raising it to his lips. _I've never wanted booze so bad in my life! _He took a big slam, glaring up at the muted, pastel stars as he consumed enough to ensure that he'd feel it immediately.

When he lowered the bottle, Deidara was grinning shyly. "I forgot how bad you hog booze," he said, although there was nothing accusing in his tone.

"I'm bigger than you," Kisame muttered, letting the blonde take the bottle from his hand. "It takes more to get me drunk."

"I have my doubts about that," Deidara said after taking a drink. "You look like you haven't eaten in weeks... you should be careful."

A wry smirk slid briefly over the swordsman's lips. "I've been nowhere near careful lately," he mused. When he brushed some sand off his bare torso, he finally noticed in full how thin he had become - he had been purposely trying to ignore it. There was just... _less _of him than usual, as if some dumb magician was trying to make him disappear with only partial success. It was a lot of mass to lose in so little time... the physical strain of his journey had obviously taken a large toll. _My body's starting to cannibalize itself,_ he noted apathetically.

"Hey," Deidara said, his eyes wide as if he was having some sort of an epiphany. "Did you heal yourself?"

"Umm, obviously I did," Kisame growled. He hadn't bothered to unwrap the bandages from his extremities, so he supposed it was possible to overlook something so blatant. "I had to for the mission..." he added, mildly embarrassed. "Sorry I wasted your time earlier."

"No, it's alright," Deidara replied softly. "I'm glad you did it. Although you're still thin as a rail."

Kisame shrugged listlessly. "Can't have everything," he muttered. He could hear that his words were slurring together slightly and was unnerved that so little alcohol was already affecting him. He looked up at Deidara, who was taking another shwill of sake, and wondered what the blonde was making of his situation. If he saw Deidara in a similar state - emaciated and half-dead - he would be _furious_. _ I can't blame him for wanting to kick Itachi's ass, _he thought to himself. _I'd react the same way._

For a while, both men were silent as they passed the sake back and forth, both of them drinking with a grim determination to get hammered. When the bottle was finally empty, Kisame sighed and tossed it into some bushes. "I could drink about three more of those," he muttered... although he wasn't sure of the fact. He could barely see straight.

Deidara snorted, rolling his eyes. "You're ridiculous," he said. He was sprawled out next to the swordsman, leaning back on his elbows. Their bodies were close together but not quite touching... Kisame had a feeling the blonde was using a fair amount of restraint to keep a bit of distance. "You know, I never thought I'd see you act this way," he added sourly.

"Act what way?" Kisame growled irritably. He had known that this conversation was going to happen eventually... the younger man was too damn nosy to leave it alone.

"Like this," Deidara sighed, as if to say 'do I need to explain?' He rummaged through his cloak and pulled something out. "It seems like you've just... _given up_," he murmured.

"Are you seriously _lecturing _me?" Kisame asked bitterly. He cursed, bristling involuntarily, when the blonde took his hand and placed the object in it.

"It's a food pill," Deidara stated. "Eat it, for crying out loud."

"I'm not-"

"Don't be a _bitch_," the blonde hissed, abruptly cutting him off. "Just eat it before I force it down your skinny throat." His voice sounded harsh and slightly desperate.

"I'm not fuckin' hungry," Kisame growled. He felt an urge to cram the pill somewhere into Deidara's body where it wasn't supposed to go. An eyesocket, maybe. He held it between his thumb and forefinger, glaring at it dully. "These things are bad for you anyway," he muttered as he began to crush it in his fingers.

It had barely begun to crack when the blonde snatched it from his grip. "That's it," he snapped, his tone suggesting that his patience had reached its limit. He muttered something under his breath - it sounded like 'I'm sorry' - then suddenly slapped the swordsman, hard, in the face. Dizzy and shocked, Kisame barely registered what had just happened before Deidara was on top of him, straddling his lap. Something smooth slithered around his wrists, binding them quickly above his head - he saw out of the corner of his eye that it was a clay snake. He cursed loudly, furious, and tried to throw the blonde off him but only succeeded in earning himself another slap - a backhand this time.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he shouted hysterically. His ears were ringing from the blow and there was a metallic taste in his mouth - either blood or adrenaline, he couldn't tell.

"I'm trying to _help _you," Deidara hissed, breathing quickly. His large eyes were bright in the moonlight and his normally gentle face looked like it was carved out of stone. "I won't just sit idly by while you fuckin' _starve _yourself!" he growled through clenched teeth. He put a hand on the swordsman's forehead, using all his might to force the man's head to the ground.

"Put that fucking pill near my mouth and I'll bite your fingers off!" Kisame raged, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. Being restrained like this was bringing forth a flashback so lucid it bordered on insanity. "I'll fucking _kill _you!" he shouted hoarsely. In his delerium, the blonde's moonlit eyes blurred and morphed into sharingan and his concerned expression became a horny leer.

"There's a clay bomb around your wrists," Deidara said quietly. "I'll detonate it if that's what it takes." He held up the pill and eased it cautiously to the swordsman's lips. "Just eat the goddamned pill and I'll let you go," he stated.

But Kisame was no longer listening. He struggled furiously at his binds, blind with animalistic panic. When Deidara deftly popped the food pill into his mouth, he snapped his jaw shut so hard it chipped a few teeth, missing the blonde's fingers by a hairswidth. Before he could spit the pill out, Deidara's hand clamped firmly over his mouth, forcing it closed with so much pressure he could feel the teeth lining the younger man's palm grating against his own. He couldn't understand why the blonde was overpowering him so easily - when had he gotten so strong?

"You're weak because you're starving," Deidara panted, as if reading his thoughts. His arms were trembling with strain and his face was flushed. "I shouldn't be able to hold you down like this! Now swallow the fucking pill!"

Kisame's eyes were wide with fury, seeing nothing but sharingan red as he continued to struggle with a madness and desperation he didn't know he possessed. When Deidara grimly covered his nose, he still resisted, growling and choking against the blonde's palm until his lungs burned and his vision tunneled. Deidara was desperately yelling something at him but he couldn't make out the words in his hysteria. Finally the lack of air forced his body to act on its own and reflexively swallow, a shudder running violently down his spine as he felt the pill slide down his throat.

"...fuckin' finally!" Deidara gasped. He released Kisame's mouth and nose, letting the swordsman catch his breath, but kept his head pressed firmly to the ground.

As Kisame gasped for air, his adrenaline dwindled along with his delerium, leaving behind a sickly revulsion that made his stomach clench and his throat tighten. He cursed weakly and gagged, too spent to struggle anymore. "Let me go," he heaved, his voice sounding hoarse and pathetic to his own ears. "I'm gonna fuckin' vomit."

When Deidara released him, dissipating the clay snake with a hand sign, his eyes were wide as if he was looking at a complete stranger. "Please just try to hold it down," he murmured, sounding dazed. He tried to help Kisame sit up but the swordsman weakly shoved him away.

For a while, he could do nothing but kneel and hang his head, fighting the bile rising in his throat. His mouth watered, his vision blurred, and it felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach with steel-toed boots. He hadn't tried to eat anything since he'd first left the Land of Earth... he'd had no idea his condition had gotten so much worse. Food pills were tiny! Yet it sat like a sick lump of lead in his stomach. After a few minutes of coughing and spitting, the nausea finally subsided, leaving him exhausted and trembling. He felt like he might faint.

"Are you alright?" Deidara asked softly. Kisame felt the blonde's hand cautiously touch his back, rubbing it gently the way a parent would do if their kid was throwing up.

"Get away from me," Kisame rasped, his hands clutching his knees so hard the knuckles were white. He had taken off his headband earlier in the night and his hair hung in messy spikes over his eyes. "I should fuckin'..." He trailed off before he could finish the threat, suddenly too overwhelmed to form words. His breath was coming in ragged, shallow gasps, making him dizzy and lightheaded, and his heart was pounding frantically in his chest. Something wet was running down his face and falling in drops onto the mat of palm fronds on the ground... his vision was so blurry that he couldn't tell what it was. "Am I bleeding?" he choked.

Deidara's fingers paused for a second before massaging his back again, his touch so gentle it was heartbreaking. "No," he said quietly. "Those are tears."

_Bullshit,_ Kisame told himself, biting his lip. _It's either blood or rain._ He wanted to say it outloud but he was afraid that if he opened his mouth again he'd start sobbing.


	11. Chapter 11

Warning - umm... Kisame has a flashback in this chapter where he bangs Fuguki. Yah, Fuguki! But it's not gross, I swear! Please look at the picture labeled 'Fuguki and Kisame' that I drew - it's in my gallery on deviantart profile - the link's on my profile. I drew it specifically to dispel any potentially disgusting mental imagery before reading any further.

Deidara stared blankly up at the night sky, his heart still pounding in his chest. Kisame had fainted a few minutes ago, collapsing rather gracefully onto the ground after having a stoic, wordless nervous breakdown. The blonde had never seen someone cry without expressing emotion - it had been like watching rain drip off the face of a statue. Yet the glimpse he had caught of the man's eyes had ran a chill down his spine. He'd heard that eyes were windows into the soul... if this was true, Kisame's soul was somewhere in hell. Just in that tiny glimpse, he had seen things he was already wishing he hadn't. The man he idolized as a brutal, strong warrior had looked utterly lost, as if his life's course was no more than a strong tidal current, carrying him so far out to sea that the shore had vanished over the horizon long ago.

The fact that someone like Kisame had lost his direction chilled Deidara to the core. He wondered bleakly if he was doomed to the same fate - wandering about the fringes of society, branded as a criminal, until even his most solid beliefs crumbled beneath his feet. Since he'd been forced to join the Akatsuki, he hadn't thought much along these lines - frankly, it was terrifying. How does one accept that they have no future? He'd been clinging onto the vain perception that Kisame could somehow rescue him, sweeping him away like a knight in a fairytale, but now it was painfully clear that the swordsman was just as vulnerable as anyone else. _He's only human, _he thought bitterly. _Knights in shining armor exist only in children's stories._

As he shifted his gaze down to Kisame's sleeping form, he cursed himself for being so selfish. Another thing that had become brutally apparent was the fact that the swordsman had been sexually assaulted by Itachi - the man's violent aversion to putting anything in his mouth couldn't possibly make the situation any clearer. The story was solidifying in his mind, becoming more graphic as the pieces came together... starting with an argument, escalating to a violent rape, then ending with Kisame beaten to shit and dying of hypothermia during one of the Land of Earth's notorious cold snaps.

The story went on in Deidara's head but it was too upsetting to continue. Had Itachi beaten Kisame before or after raping him? How did he rape him? Up the ass or just in the mouth? Did he use a genjutsu to subdue him? The sheer weight of the situation made him sick with anger... he felt as if he might start retching like Kisame had been doing earlier. When he remembered how violently the poor swordsman had gagged, guilt heated his cheeks. _ I shouldn't have forced him to take that fuckin' food pill, _he thought listlessly, _but damnit, he's starving himself! _Honestly, he'd just been expecting the swordsman to take it willingly, which had wound up being an incredibly inaccurate assumption. He was lucky he'd planned for a worst-case scenario, although tying the man down with explosives and forcing him to do something traumatizing to his psyche made him feel like a borderline rapist. The fact that he'd gotten an erection (luckily, hidden by his cloak) from doing it didn't help, either. Kisame struggling helplessly beneath him, his eyes wide with fear, had sparked something sadistic in the blonde's gut... he'd felt a bizarre, violent urge to rip off the man's pants and fuck him until he cried. The fact that Kisame was so thin aroused him almost as much as it riled him - it made him look a lot less... _impenetrable_.

_Damnit, what the fuck is the matter with me? _he wondered. _Maybe I'm just as bad as Itachi!_

Kisame shifted and growled softly in his sleep, snapping the blonde out of his morbid introspect. He was glad the swordsman couldn't read his mind. In fact, he had a feeling that Kisame was so shitfaced, he wouldn't be able to read much of anything even if he was still awake. Here was another issue causing Deidara some guilt - he hadn't drank more than a sip of sake, faking getting drunk until the swordsman had consumed the entire bottle. _But my intentions were good! _he convinced himself for the millionth time. _I thought if he got drunk, he'd be more willing to eat! And maybe even to screw..._

Looking back on it, Deidara now realized that it had been an incredibly stupid idea. _Kisame wouldn't have freaked out if he hadn't been wasted, _he brooded. _And now he's gonna wake up all pissed off with a hangover, wondering why his eyes are puffy._ Luckily for now, the swordsman sure as hell wasn't about to wake up. It had been a strong bottle of sake, bordering on liquor, and Kisame had downed it on an _incredibly _empty stomach. Food pills were good for restoring stamina but they did nothing for alcohol tolerance - Deidara knew this from first-hand experience. _Thanks to a diet of those fuckin' pills, I was shitfaced when I lost my virginity, _he mused.

And then he was hit with a terrible epiphany that made his mind reel and his face hot. _Kisame's out cold, _he thought, biting his lip. _ I could... *do* things to him and he wouldn't wake up. _Suddenly, he saw the swordsman's sleeping form in a different light, his eyes ravishing the lithe curves of his body in a lewd manner that he'd never allow himself while the man was watching. His cock grew hard so quickly it made him dizzy. If his ideas up until now had been stupid, this one was absolutely idiotic. Just the concept of molesting Kisame in his sleep made his skin crawl with disgust at his own imagination... but it also gave him a shiver of black excitement, too strong to resist.

Cautiously, he tested his theory. He called out Kisame's name a few times, softly at first then loudly. No reponse, not even a twitch. He poked the swordsman's shoulder, right in the sensitive gill marks. Still nothing. His hand trembled slightly as he ran his fingers lightly down his side, trying to elicit a telltale flinch that maybe he was somehow awake yet feigning sleep. But there was no response... no gooseflesh raised up on the hairless, smooth skin, no hitch in his breath. Unless Kisame was the best actor in the world, he was absolutely knocked out.

_I am such a fuckin' hypocrite_, he thought to himself. _I shouldn't be doing this! _ But even his most valiant efforts to dissuade himself weren't enough. His cock was already painfully hard, straining against his pants - he had to force himself to calm down before he spontaneously orgasmed. Considering how perversely intense his infatuation with Kisame had become, this was a considerable feat. When his head finally stopped spinning, he reached out and touched the swordsman again, resting his hand lightly on his exposed hip. Kisame was laying on his side, facing away... if he was awake, the position would be a slutty invitation to fuck. He held his breath and gave the swordsman's hip a rough squeeze, relishing in the way the taut skin felt in his grip. Dizzy with anticipation, he tried to be as quiet as possible as he shifted a little closer, propping himself up on one arm so that he was halfway laying down behind Kisame like he was getting ready to fuck him in the ass. He'd never topped anyone or anything before - not even a pillow - and just the fact that he was positioned this way would be enough in itself to give him a life supply of mental jerk-off material.

_I should just stop at this_, he told himself desperately, his eyes gazing hungrily at the small gap between his groin and the swordsman's ass. _ I should leave him alone and go masturbate. _But his hand refused to listen, giving Kisame's hip another rough squeeze before sliding down to the curve of his lower back. This was as far as he'd ever explored - his sessions with the swordsman thus far had been so brief and furious that he'd never even copped a feel of his jaw-dropping, perfect ass. He'd only been able to ogle it and jerk off thinking about touching it. _Well, now that I'm here, _he told himself, _I might as well..._

He bit his lip to stifle a groan as his fingers toyed with the waistline of Kisame's pants, flirting with the idea. While it was tempting to just shove in his hand and grab a handful of bare ass, he forced himself to go slowly, running his fingertips over the fabric just enough so that he could feel the curves underneith. He paused when he reached the swordsman's thigh, dizzy with anticipation, then pressed his hand down and dragged it back up to the small of his back, letting his fingers sink between his asscheeks a little with the motion. A whispered curse escaped his lips - the urge to rub the tip of his cock against that delicious curve was nearly irresistable.

Kisame muttered something in his sleep and shifted again, nuzzling unconsciously against the blonde and his rock-hard erection until the two were pressed tightly together. For a minute, Deidara was too frightened even to breathe, literally scared stiff - the thought of the swordsman waking up to find a hard cock rubbing against his ass made his blood run cold with dread. But Kisame stayed KO'd, his chest rising and falling rythymically to back up the fact. Finally Deidara let out the breath he'd been holding and gasped for air, making way more noise than he would have if he'd just kept breathing in the first place. _ My dick is practically inside him, _he realized with a pang of mingled lust and terror._ If we weren't both wearing pants, it might have slipped in just now! _The thought of his cock ramming mercilessly into Kisame's ass was so vivid and close to reality that he couldn't help but grind his hips a little, his hand finding the back of the swordsman's thigh and clutching it possessively. He could almost hear Kisame moaning and crying, almost see him whorishly moving his hips.

_I'm such a fuckin' pervert, _Deidara seethed as his cock bucked up against Kisame's ass. _But why should I always have to be on the bottom? It's not fair! _ He slid his hand up to the swordsman's hip again, relishing in the way his pale fingers looked against the bare skin - the colors were bleached to white on grey in the moonlight. _ Then again, we've only screwed twice, _he told himself. _Maybe he'd like getting fucked... someday. When Itachi's dead at my feet._

The thought of fucking Kisame with Itachi's defeated corpse in view brought on the oncome of the most sinister orgasm he'd ever had. He bit his lip and pulled out his cock, stroking it furiously until he came onto the swordsman's lower back. When he was finally spent, he leaned over and planted a lingering, possessive kiss on the unconscious man's shoulder before carefully cleaning up his cum with the corner of his robe. It wasn't until all the evidence was gone that he realized he hadn't even copped a bare handful of ass. _All I did was dry-hump him through our pants, _he mused. _Pathetic! _But he supposed it was better that way... he'd played out his sadistic fantasy with barely any molesting, relatively speaking. It was still creepy - but then again, he was definitely a creep.

_What he doesn't know won't hurt him, _he justified as he shifted to a crouch. _And at some point in the future, maybe I'll actually get to fuck him. _Just as he began to rise to his feet, Kisame sighed and rolled onto his back, knocking him off balance. He fell onto his hands and knees, almost landing on his face in his shock. When he looked over at the swordsman, his eyes widened and a little snort of laughter escaped his lips. Kisame's cock was so hard it was threatening to bust out of his pants. _ I guess he liked getting pretend-fucked, _he thought with a smirk. He rose to his feet again and quietly crept away - he didn't want to be anywhere near the swordsman when he woke up with a raging hangover.

X X X

Kisame was having a dream about Kirigakure. Even though nearly a decade had passed since he'd lived there, he still dreamt of it often, reliving both the good parts and the bad with chilling clarity. Sometimes he had nightmares about slaughtering his comrades - awakening gasping for air and covered in sweat - and other times his dreams were mundane reenactments of everyday life... cleaning his apartment, sparring in the training field, cooking food with mixed results. Tonight, however, he was dreaming of Fuguki Suikazan, which was a rare occurence. The man had been his mentor, his superior, and finally his victim, leaving him too embittered to allow the memories to take him over, even in his dreams. But now he was remembering every detail of his experiences with the man with painful clarity - especially a certain part that he had kept secret over the years, to the point where it had become closer to fiction than fact in his own mind. For some reason, the veil he had cast over the memories had been pulled from his subconscious, revealing a scene so raw and vivid it made his skin prickle in his sleep.

"...Still bothers me," Fuguki was saying. It was dark out and Kiri's signature mist cover was thicker than usual, muting sight and sound to where everything seemed surreal and faded. Kisame was trying to pay attention to his mentor but wasn't having much luck - he was exhausted and mildly irritated. Walking through Kiri's deserted streets at night was something he preferred to do alone... it was annoying that Fuguki had insisted on escorting him home. The older man had been doting on him recently, buying him dinner after missions and talking to him more than usual. In the past, he'd always been a cold and utterly ruthless person, which Kisame preferred to... _whatever _this was. It was a lot easier not to think of him as a human being, with fears, ambitions and passions. Shinobi weren't supposed to percieve one another in such a way - it was unprofessional. The fact that Fuguki was letting his humanity leak out around him was both obnoxious and rather suspicious - the man never did anything unless there was some underlying scheme.

"You're not listening to me at all, are you?" Fuguki growled, cutting off his train of thought.

"No," Kisame stated blandly, glancing up at the riled expression on his superior's face. "I told you, I'm tired." Although he still talked formally around Fuguki, addressing him as senpai, he'd been having no problem recently with letting his cold personality show.

"You forget your place," Fuguki muttered, plainly aggravated with his tone, yet he didn't emphasize the statement by hitting him - a backhand to the face was the way most Kiri superiors reprimanded an underling who talked too casually. The fact that this physical abuse had been absent lately only added to the list of suspicious behavior.

Kisame sighed and lowered his eyes when they reached the doorstep to his apartment. "I'll see you in the morning," he growled, placing his hand on the doorknob. When Fuguki made no move to leave, he rolled his eyes with exasperation. "What do you want?" he asked curtly. "If you're going to ask me for a favor, just spit it out."

In the mist-shrouded moonlight, Fuguki's face looked beautiful yet utterly terrifying. Back then, he was the kind of man that could make a woman swoon just by indulging her with a glance - his ethereal appearance and infamous reputation had earned him enough fans to constitute a brothel. When he placed a hand over Kisame's, the younger man's heart raced despite his best efforts to remain aloof. "Didn't you recently turn eighteen?" he asked after a pause.

"That's what it says in my files," Kisame growled. Since he was an orphan, his age and birthday were little more than educated guesses scribbled in Kiri's records. "But you should already know that," he muttered, trying to ignore the fingers that were lightly massaging his wrist. "What are you getting at?"

Fuguki's fingers tightened painfully around his wrist, making him inhale sharply and bite his lip. "Don't play dumb," he snarled, his voice barely above a whisper. "You've known for a long time what I want." His fingers relaxed as quickly as they had tightened, as if he was keeping himself in check. "You're legal now," he stated quietly. "And I'll pay you."

For a brief moment, Kisame found himself unable to respond. He was well aware of the fact that Fuguki had a taste for younger men - all the women in Kiri would screw him in a heartbeat and yet he shunned them, setting his sites on male prostitutes instead. The fact that his superior helped fuel the village's plague of sex trafficking was despicable. An orphan himself, (most people with 'demon' in their names weren't raised by loving parents) Fuguki must have been exposed to it to some degree as a child - those deemed unfit for the ninja academy were often swept into a life of prostitution against their will. It was a brutal yet undeniable reality of Kirigakure and also one of the reasons Kisame had trained so hard to become a shinobi. _ I've worked day and night to become one of the most feared jounin in Kiri, _he told himself, _and Fuguki's asking me to be his whore? _The situation was so degrading it made him want to punch the man's teeth out but he somehow managed to hold back the urge.

"You have a million whores you can screw," he finally said, his voice lowered. He tried to pull his hand out of Fuguki's grasp but his mentor's grip was like steel. "Let me go," he hissed.

"I don't want to force you," Fuguki said, his narrow eyes glinting. The statement sounded like a roundabout way of saying 'I'm not giving you a choice.' Something had appeared in his free hand; Kisame reluctantly focused on it to find that it was a sizeable roll of cash. He winced a little when the older man twisted his wrist and placed the roll in his palm.

"Goddamnit," he said weakly, his face hot. He caught a glimpse of the markings on the bills - it was a _ton _of dough. Fuguki was prepostrously wealthy and wasn't afraid to flaunt the fact to get what he wanted. Kisame wanted to believe that money couldn't buy happiness but as he glared at the large sum, he realized that perhaps he was mistaken. "This is ridiculous," he scowled, closing his fingers around the cash. When he pulled his hand away this time, Fuguki released his grip, grinning widely.

"I knew you'd come around," the older man said, watching Kisame quickly shove the money into his pocket.

"I'm broke, you asshole," Kisame muttered, dropping his formalities entirely. And it was true - for a jounin of his rank and stature, his income was surprisingly scarce. The irony that Fuguki was probably the one skimming his pay didn't escape him. _Perhaps he's been taking a cut all these years just to ensure I'd do this, _he seethed. The idea sounded insane but considering his superior's scheming nature, it wasn't implausible. On top of it all, the man also had the upper hand of knowing the nature of the missions that Kisame carried out. If he really wanted to, he could spill the beans to everyone and make his protege out to be a bloodthirsty lunatic who killed his comrades just for the hell of it. Although Fuguki was the one who gave the orders, his reputation and sly tongue would no doubt doubt leave him in the clear. With this in mind, the wad of cash was just a silent way of saying, 'I don't want it to come to that... although it could.'

He cursed himself for being so pragmatic as he opened the door to his apartment and sullenly motioned for Fuguki to enter.

"You go first," his senpai said with a smirk. "I'm afraid you might stab me in the back." The expression on his face was nothing less than sinister as he watched the younger man scowl and enter before him.

When they were both inside, Fuguki and Samehada's collective bulk made the small space seem even more cramped. Kisame's efficiency was tiny - one room with a bed, dresser and kitchenette crammed together, and a bathroom the size of a closet.

"What a dump," Fuguki muttered, unshouldering Samehada and leaning it against a wall.

Kisame rolled his eyes as he rummaged through a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of sake. "If you don't like it, then get out," he growled as he hastily uncorked the bottle. "Fuckin' asshole."

"What happened to calling me senpai?" Fuguki asked as he took a seat on the twin-sized bed, a bemused expression on his face.

Kisame closed his eyes as he took a huge slam of sake, wishing the man would just disappear. "There's no way I'm calling you senpai tonight," he said under his breath, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Unless you want to pay me extra."

Fuguki actually seemed to ponder this for a moment, as if forcing young men to address him as 'master' or 'teacher' during sex was something he had done before. "I guess I'll let it slide, then," he mused. "But I do want you to share that sake with me. Since when do you even drink?"

"Since never," Kisame growled as he handed over the bottle. "This was a birthday gift. I don't waste my money on... _debauchery_."

Fuguki looked a little irked as he took a sip. "Enough with the insults," he said curtly. "Now go take a shower. You're filthy."

Kisame cursed softly, his face hot. "I need another drink," he sighed, skittishly snatching away the bottle and taking another slam. He flinched when Fuguki ran a hand over his hip, squeezing it lightly before pulling away. It was impossible to tell whether the older man was erect under his robes but the hungry expression on his face suggested that he was.

After he handed back the bottle, he slipped into the bathroom and showered, gazing numbly at the grime from a day's worth of difficult training swirling into the drain. It was hard to accept that any of this was happening, although he wasn't exactly shocked. He'd known Fuguki since he was thirteen and had always been painfully aware that the man was attracted to him. The fact that he'd waited until he was eighteen was a mild sign of respect he supposed he should be grateful for - the unfortunate whores he fucked didn't have the same luxury. _Fuguki's such a fuckin' pervert, _he seethed as he turned off the water and dried himself off. _But at least he's attractive. There's no way I could do this if he was... *fat* or something._ He glanced in the small mirror above the sink, scowling bitterly at his reflection, before wrapping the towel around his waist and leaving the bathroom.

Fuguki was still sitting on the bed, although he had let down his hair and shed his clothes down to just his pants. Kisame found himself briefly ogling the older man's body - he was insanely tall yet slender, his build suprisingly lithe for someone who wielded such a heavy sword. Fuguki always hid his form with his robes... perhaps it was to hide the fact that he was so effeminate. When Kisame realized he was mildly turned on, he blushed and looked down at the floor.

"Come here," Fuguki growled, setting the sake on the dresser by the bed. "I'm not paying you to act shy." When Kisame hesitantly stepped closer to the bed, the older man roughly grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto his lap, making him bite his lip to stifle a curse. "Is this your first time being with a man?" he asked softly, leaning back onto one arm as he toyed with the towel wrapped around the younger man's waist.

Kisame found himself unable to speak, managing only a weak nod. He could feel Fuguki's erection pressed against his ass - the man's cock felt enormous.

"What about Zabuza?" Fuguki pried, lightly biting Kisame's earlobe. "I see you two together a lot."

"We've never... gone all the way," Kisame breathed, his heart beating quickly. He and Zabuza had made out a few times after sparring, finding eachother strangely aroused from the intimacy of battle. It had left them both confused and flustered, afraid to take things any further. Being with another man was something Kisame always figured would happen gradually - it was so much more _serious _than screwing a woman for some reason. Yet as Fuguki's fingers ran up his bare chest then slid over his lips, he realized bitterly that there would be nothing gradual about it. He stifled a moan when Fuguki slipped a few fingers into his mouth, fighting the urge to bite down.

"You were born with sharp teeth, weren't you?" Fuguki murmured as he explored Kisame's mouth, running his fingers curiously over his teeth before pushing in further. Kisame groaned and nodded, both humiliated and aroused by the intrusion. "They're so sharp," the taller man mused. "Mine were filed when Samehada was passed down to me... you know the tradition." He bit down a little harder on Kisame's ear, eliciting another breathless moan. "See... they're not as sharp," he said softly. "Although they still pierce skin fairly easily." He retracted his fingers and twisted Kisame's head to the side, forcing their eyes to meet. For a moment he just stared at the younger man, his gaze reminiscient of the way people admired paintings and sculptures, before gently pressing their mouths together.

Kissing Fuguki was much different than anything in Kisame's past experience - the older man went slower than he was used to and displayed a calm restraint, taking his time to tease Kisame's lips with his teeth before gradually slipping in his tongue. Everything he did, from the way he languidly explored the younger man's mouth to the fingers that ran lightly up and down his back, was deliberate and calculated. When he finally pulled away, Kisame was breathless and incredibly flustered, his face on fire. His cock was painfully hard already, throbbing uncomfortably against the towel wrapped around his waist. He cursed under his breath, embarrassed, and adjusted it through the fabric in a feeble attempt to make it go away.

"Stand up," Fuguki said softly.

Kisame cursed again and reluctantly obeyed, so weak-kneed that he staggered a little in the process. When he tried to cover up his erection with his hands, Fuguki clicked his tongue and batted them away, his eyes fixated on the younger man's cock.

"Take off the towel," he commanded.

"I'm not-"

"Did I say you could talk?" Fuguki snapped. "Just take it off!"

_I'm not comfortable with that,_ Kisame finished in his head. He scowled, furious, and grudgingly pulled the towel from his waist, letting it drop to the floor. When Fuguki motioned for him to step closer, he bit his lip to supress another outburst. This was degrading enough without the man snapping at him. An unwanted shiver ran down his spine as Fuguki leaned forward and lightly ran his tongue around his navel, his hands gliding up his bare thighs before resting gently on his hips. There was something about the man's tender way of lovemaking that was more degrading than the rough treatment he had been expecting. It seemed to make a mockery of genuine compassion.

"You have a big cock," Fuguki stated, pausing briefly from his ministrations to look up at Kisame. "Has anyone sucked you off before?"

Kisame shrugged, beside himself with embarrassment. When his superior's fingers suddenly dug into his hips, he winced and stammered, "A girl, once. But she started choking on it and gave up." Apparently the answer was satisfactory because Fuguki relaxed his fingers and returned his attentions to Kisame's cock. His patience seemed infinite as he gently grabbed the base and slid his hand up the shaft, pausing to rub the tip with his thumb before slowly sinking back down. Kisame groaned and bucked his hips a little, wishing sullenly that the man would just go _faster_. The quicker they both came and got this over with, the better. _He's obviously trying to get his money's worth, _he seethed bitterly.

His train of thought faded when Fuguki took the head in his mouth, his narrow, piercing eyes half-lidded. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive underside then began to work his way down, taking the length into his throat without the slightest sign of discomfort. There was no scrape of sharp teeth, no gagging... no watering of the eyes or mouth. Kisame briefly remembered a certain type of training that involved killing the nerves in the throat so that a shinobi could painlessly swallow a scroll containing important information and cough it back up later. This training was discontinued before Kisame became a shinobi because the methods of nerve-killing were deemed too cruel even for Kiri - perhaps some sort of branding, although he wasn't sure. As Fuguki's lips reached the base of his shaft, he wondered if the man had been subjected to it when he was young... it would explain a lot, including his rough, growling voice. _ Or maybe he's just sucked a lot of dick,_ he thought.

Sadistic nerve killing or not, Fuguki definitely knew what he was doing. Kisame found himself near orgasm surprisingly quickly, his hands clenching at his sides. He wanted to grab the older man's auburn hair to make him go quicker but somehow restrained the urge - he had no desire to feel a warning scrape of sharp teeth on his dick. When he finally came, he had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from crying out. The orgasm was frustrating, over too quickly it seemed, and it left him panting and humiliated. As Fuguki pulled away with a contemplative expression on his face, Kisame wondered if it was possible for someone to be too good at head. It sounded ludicrous but the older man's ministrations had been so professional and routine - about as intimate as polishing a katana. He wasn't even out of breath! The experience made him feel like a tool in a whole new light.

"Get on the bed," Fuguki growled, "and lay on your back."

Kisame sighed and took another slam of sake before complying, his hands shaking slightly. He knew what was coming next and no amount of booze in the world would be enough to calm his nerves. Suddenly he was wishing he hadn't accepted the money... it just didn't seem worth it anymore. It took him every ounce of willpower he had to lay himself down - his body was nearly to the point of bolting animalistically. When Fuguki leaned over him, pinning him under his long limbs, he felt like he might have a panic attack.

"You're hyperventilating," the older man stated, sounding mildly annoyed. "Compose yourself."

"I really don't want to-"

Fuguki stopped him mid-sentence with a sharp backhand to the jaw, making him cut his tongue on his teeth. "Don't speak to me unless spoken to," his superior stated bluntly.

Kisame winced and coughed a mouthful of blood onto his pillow, his head ringing. The blow hurt far more in his state of panic that it would have otherwise - he'd been hit by Fuguki a million times on the training field without so much as a flinch. He barely even noticed when the older man took his hand and guided it down to his erection, making his fingers curl around it through his pants. His superior's cock was bizarrely big, slightly longer and thicker than his own. As the hand over his guided his fingers up and down the shaft, he feebly cursed his shitty luck. He'd been hoping it would be small.

"Take it out of my pants," Fuguki growled softly, pulling his hand away. Kisame reluctantly obeyed, his head spinning from the backhand as he undid a few snaps and slid in his fingers. His breath hitched when he touched Fuguki's bare cock - it was hard as steel and so thick that his fingers barely even met around its girth. Skittishly, he pulled it out, looking off to the side. He had no desire to see the thing, especially since he knew where it was going.

"Now stroke it while I get you ready," his superior said. "And look at it while you do it."

_Get me ready? _Kisame wondered, forcing his eyes to focus on Fuguki's cock. _ What the hell does that mean? _He had no experience with fucking or getting fucked in the ass... he didn't even know that there was a way to 'get ready' for such a thing. He glared dully at his mentor's pale cock as his blue fingers slid mechanically up and down the shaft, trying to imagine that he was somewhere else. When he completed a morally questionable mission, he was adept at aquiring a 'fly on the wall' view of his own actions, passively watching himself commit unforgiveable atrocities as if he was little more than an actor on a screen. It was the only way he could follow through with a lot of the screwed up shit he did. As good as he was at this, he just couldn't manage to enter that detached frame of mind now - he was unable to leave his naked, slutty body as it pleasured Fuguki for money. Every detail was painfully acute, from his hand bobbing up and down his mentor's shaft to his own light blue cock, already half-hard again for reasons he couldn't pinpoint. When he saw the older man wet his fingers with his mouth, he tensed and shuddered, beside himself with dread and shame.

"Let go of my cock, Kisame," Fuguki suddenly hissed, baring his sharp teeth. "Your grip is too tight." Embarrassed, Kisame mechanically willed his hand to open and drop to his side - he was so nervous that his muscles felt spring-loaded. When his superior's slick fingers slipped between his legs and pressed up against his ass, he cringed animalistically, bumping his head against the wall behind the bed. "You need to relax," the older man growled, grabbing his hip to hold him in place as he rubbed the spot in a way that made a shiver run down his spine. "If you stay tense, you'll just end up hurting yourself."

_I'm not the one hurting myself, _Kisame said silently, watching his his body tremble under Fuguki's ministrations. _You are. _When his mentor's index finger slid into his ass, he grated his teeth to prevent himself from crying out. It was surprisingly painful and by the time it was in to the knuckle, he was panting and shivering, his breath coming in ragged gasps. _No wonder he has to pay for sex, _he thought hysterically. _Who would do this willingly? _

"Damnit," Fuguki breathed, wincing slightly. "I told you to relax!" He leaned over and grabbed the sake with his free hand, taking a quick drink before impatiently making Kisame take it. "Drink the rest of this," he growled. "Clearly, you're too nervous to do this sober!"

Kisame weakly held up the bottle to see how much was left - it was still half full. Coerced by the furious expression on his superior's face, he raised himself up onto one elbow and began to slam the contents. It was too much to drink in one gulp but Fuguki grabbed the end of the bottle and tilted it up before he could lower it, making him keep going. By the time it was empty, he was choking and sputtering, his head spinning and his eyes watering. He cursed feebly and flopped back down onto the bed, letting the bottle drop to the floor. He felt like he might throw up. As the sake blurred and numbed his senses, he barely even noticed that Fuguki's finger had started sliding in and out of his ass. The sensation no longer hurt, although it was still vaguely uncomfortable. There was something else too - a mild pleasure with each thrust. He groaned deleriously and bucked his hips a little, impatient all of a sudden. When Fuguki slipped in another finger, he found himself eager for it.

"I told you it would hurt less if you relaxed," Fuguki muttered. He leaned over and nipped the younger man's neck, teasing the sensitive area with his tongue and teeth. Kisame slurred a curse as the fingers crammed inside him increased their pace. His anxiety was waning due to the sake, leaving a dizzy lust in its wake - he was surprised at his own actions as he reached down and grabbed Fuguki's cock again, stroking it lightly. The older man tensed briefly, expecting another death-grip, then growled a curse and pulled out his fingers. "Put it in," he breathed.

Kisame's body seemed to belong to someone else as he guided the tip of Fuguki's cock to his ass - the sake was making him act even more like a whore, it seemed. When he found the spot, his mentor groaned and bit his lip, then pushed gently until the head slipped in. Kisame cursed loudly, shocked at how painful it was. _What was the point of using his fingers if it's still going to hurt? _he seethed. Fuguki paused for a moment before pushing in more and rolled his eyes when the younger man screamed again.

"Shut the hell up," he hissed. "These walls are paper-thin!" He clamped a hand over Kisame's mouth and continued to force in his cock... by the time he was in to the hilt, the younger man was trembling, his face flushed. He gave Kisame's head a rough shake before finally releasing his grip. "Another sound from you and I'll knock you senseless!" he grated quietly.

For a minute the two just glared at eachother, seething for their own seperate reasons as Kisame adjusted to the feel of Fuguki's cock. It didn't take long - he was so hammered that within moments he'd nearly forgotten how much it had hurt. He glanced down at himself and rolled his eyes when he noticed that his cock was fully erect, pressing up against the older man's stomach. Humiliated, he shot his superior a sullen look as if to say, _fuckin' get on with it!_

"I swear," Fuguki muttered under his breath before complying, moving just slightly as if expecting another outburst. But Kisame managed to keep quiet, biting his lip as he bucked his hips impatiently. When his superior aquired a careful rythym, gently sliding his cock in and out, he felt that same wave of pleasure he'd felt before, except this time it was more intense, making him gasp and squirm with each thrust. It was obvious that Fuguki was using a fair amount of restraint to go so slowly. The result was painless yet maddening.

"Go faster," he panted, wincing in anticipation of another backhand.

"Don't tell me what to do," Fuguki growled. But he was almost eager as he began to thrust more quickly - also there was no backhand, as if he'd momentarily forgotten his own rules. The slip-up in authority made Kisame wonder how much more he could get away with. _ He never said anything about touching, _he told himself. Too drunk and horny to ponder the consequences, he reached up and grabbed Fuguki's hips, urging him to slam in deeper. His mentor's breath hitched and there was barely a moment's hesitation before he relented, pulling his cock out to the tip and slamming it back in with each thrust. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he breathed.

Kisame's response was a gasp and a shiver - his superior's ridiculously large cock was hitting that spot inside him now even harder, making his senses tingle with the verge of an orgasm completely different than any he'd had before. He slid his hands up to Fuguki's back and twined his fingers into the man's auburn hair, relishing in how luxurious it felt - being able to touch his mentor at will only fueled his lust. A moan escaped Fuguki's lips as he leaned over and furiously kissed the younger man, crushing their mouths together with none of his previous restraint. And then all inhibitions were lost as the two neared climax - suddenly it was a blur of hands wildly groping skin, tongues fucking, bodies tangled together. When Kisame felt himself begin to cum, he clamped his legs around Fuguki's waist and furiously writhed his hips, grinding the man's cock until he spilled his seed all over both their stomachs. Fuguki followed seconds later with a shudder, burying his face in the crook of the younger man's neck to muffle a loud curse.

For a while after that, both men were too exhausted to move. Kisame's hands were still on Fuguki's back and he could feel the older man's heart beating quickly as he caught his breath. Delerious and utterly spent, he could hardly believe that his superior had given him such an intense orgasm - he wondered if the degradation of fucking for money had been a turn-on in itself. He supposed that he'd also been hiding from himself the fact that he was infatuated with Fuguki. It was difficult to accept that he was attracted to such a perverted piece of shit. _ I must be some sort of masochist, _he thought to himself. It was a disturbing thought but he was too tired to let it bother him. For now, the feel of his mentor's heart beating and chest rising and falling was strangely serene, somehow more intimate than the sex had been. When the man finally lifted himself up and slowly pulled out his cock, Kisame was almost disappointed.

"I'm going to use your shower," Fuguki murmured, looking dazed as he sluggishly rose to his feet. Kisame just shrugged in response - earlier he'd thought that he'd enjoy kicking the jerk out of his apartment the second the deed was done, but now he wasn't sure what he wanted. He watched his mentor put up his long hair with a few pins and walk stiffly into the bathroom, the hand on his hip suggesting maybe he'd pulled something during the sex. The man had barely turned thirty but he moved and acted like a bitter old kurmudgen twice his age. It was obvious that his hedonistic lifestyle was beginning to take its toll.

After Fuguki disappeared into the bathroom, Kisame sighed and scratched his stomach only to find his hand in a puddle of his own cum. _Damnit, _he thought listlessly. _I guess I need a shower, too. _He waited for his mentor to finish showering, trying not to fall asleep, then stumbled to his feet when the water finally turned off. Fuguki emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking half-asleep himself, and plodded past the younger man to the bed, where he promptly laid himself back down.

"You're not sleeping here," Kisame muttered, trying to look pissed off even though he really wasn't.

"Fuck you, Kisame," Fuguki growled. "I'm too tired to walk home. Can't feel my damn legs." Met with silence, he sighed and added, "I'll pay you extra."

"Ugh, fine," Kisame relented. He dragged himself into the shower and swayed drunkenly under the spray of water for a few minutes, then toweled himself off and returned to the bed. It was only a twin-size and Fuguki was taking up the whole thing with his sprawling limbs. "Move over," he sighed. "I'm not sleeping on the floor."

Fuguki rolled onto his side, making a bit of space. "Shut up and lay down," he muttered, his eyes half-lidded. Kisame reluctanly complied, squeezing onto the edge of the bed. His breath hitched when the older man wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer, so that they were pressed together back to chest. For a second the intimacy was almost too much - he'd never slept so close to someone before - but his anxiety quickly waned to an odd feeling of comfort. Being held this way felt... _nice_. He fell asleep in mere minutes, nestling into his mentor's embrace.

X X X

He awoke with cum on his hands and palm fronds scratching his back, groping blindly for his senpai's comforting warmth.


	12. Chapter 12

Warning - Some DeiKisa in here. If that grosses you out, don't read any further. If not, enjoy!

Kisame spent a long time trying to remember what the hell had happened to him last night with little luck. The last thing he could recall was punching Deidara in the face then uncorking a bottle of sake. Everything after that - if there had even been anything - was completely blank. Had he immediately passed out after taking a sip? Had he gone on a drunken tear, chasing the blonde across the beach with a blacked-out boner? Or perhaps he had done something even more ridiculous, although he couldn't think of what that could possibly be. All he knew was that he had a wretched hangover.

Even stranger was his dream about Fuguki. He hadn't had such vivid dreams of his long-dead superior in years, especially accompanied by an embarrassing nocturnal emission. _ I thought I locked those memories up and threw away the key, _he told himself sluggishly. _Why the hell did it all surface? _Perhaps it had something to do with his ordeal with Itachi, although he wasn't certain. _Sure, I screwed Fuguki for money, _he thought, _but it wasn't a terrible experience. I never considered it to be rape. _In fact, it had been nearly the opposite. He had felt a strange empowerment in his influence over his senpai... seeing such a cold and ruthless person gasp and shiver from his touch had been exhilerating.

That one night hadn't been the only time they'd fucked, either - it went on for almost a year after that, once or twice every few weeks. He had found himself anticipating the next rendevous, masturbating frequently to the thought of Fuguki bending him into different positions like a fuck-toy. Eventually, his superior had preferred him to ride on top - he'd lay there completely still as Kisame writhed on his cock, letting the younger man get himself off before finally grabbing him by the hips and grinding into him until he came.

_Goddamnit,_ Kisame brooded, forcing himself to snap out of his thoughts. His cock was fully erect, jutting out of his unbuttoned pants. Frustrated, he wondered where the hell Deidara was - suddenly, the idea of physical contact didn't sound so repulsive. _I guess I can't go looking for him with a boner, _he decided. _Knowing my luck, I'll end up running into Sasori. _He glanced around to find no sign of either man's presence nearby. The sun was just barely rising, casting muted shades of pink and purple over the night sky... they were probably still asleep. _ Guess I'll just jerk off again, _he thought sourly.

He masturbated to a weird combination of fucking and getting fucked, first envisioning Deidara squirming on his cock before mentally switching roles, imagining himself degraded and stripped of pride as Fuguki used his body like it was no more than an expendable object. When he reached orgasm, he clamped a hand over his mouth like his senpai used to do to muffle his cries, moaning into his palm as he spilled his seed. After his climax faded, his thoughts eventually drifted to the unpleasant reality of what had happened to Fuguki. _He got fat, lost his sex drive, and became even more of a humorless dick, _he brooded. He had a feeling that the man's weight gain had been stress related - selling information to the enemy for personal profit was a sin that would weigh heavily on even the most callous soul. _And then I murdered him and took his sword, _he recalled bitterly,_ but I was just following orders. So goes the story of my life._

In the past, it had hurt him to an insane degree just to think about the incident - it had birthed a number of issues, including his drinking binge in the few years that followed, as well as his borderline eating disorder. Even a decade later, he still vaguely considered eating food to be a form of debauchery, subconsciously remembering his mentor's miserable obesity every time he picked up a pair of chopsticks. When his mental state was crippled, such as it had been in the last week, his latent issues festered into a dysfunction strong enough to overpower the will to live. Starvation was a slow and painful way to leave the world... yet in the past few days, it had become more of an unchangeable reality than an option.

But for some reason, he didn't feel as utterly starved as he had last night. Hangover aside, he didn't have that same dull haze over his senses - everything was a lot clearer. _Did I eat something? _he wondered incredulously. The notion sounded prepostrous but there was no doubt that he had somehow regained some stamina. _Maybe I drained Deidara's chakra, _he brooded. He couldn't imagine doing anything that would harm the blonde... but as blacked out as he had been, it was a possibility.

_Whatever... _he thought. _There's no point in guessing. I don't remember shit! _He rose to his feet and popped his back, surprised that his muscles weren't protesting as much as usual. Since he had some time before it got light out, he decided to hunt around for a freshwater source. His canteen was almost empty, plus he _really _needed to wash his hands.

X X X

Deidara was shocked to find Kisame waiting patiently at the meeting site - he had been assuming that the swordsman would be the last one awake. On the contrary, the man was bright-eyed and alert as if he had been up for hours. If he was hungover, he certainly wasn't letting it show.

"Morning," he said hesitantly as he took a seat next to Kisame in the sand. He wanted to say 'I'm sorry' or 'how did you sleep?' but held his tongue when he saw no signs of rage or suspicion on the swordsman's features.

"Yah," Kisame murmured, squinting at the sun rising over the sea. He sighed and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand before looking over at the blonde. "Hey... did I do anything stupid last night?" he asked slowly. "I fuckin' _blacked out_."

"No, you were fine," Deidara replied, choosing his words carefully. "You even ate a food pill... don't you remember?" Hopefully the answer was 'no'.

Kisame shook his head. "That's hard to believe," he muttered. "I haven't been able to hold down anything solid lately... Maybe being hammered helped."

_Maybe I forced it down your throat with a boner, _Deidara thought to himself, fidgeting nervously with the edges of his sleeves. "Well, I'm glad you took it," he sighed. "You look a lot better today. You're more... _alert_."

Kisame's response was a shrug and a muttered curse - he looked embarrassed and slightly baffled. "Did we, um, screw around at all?" he asked after a pause. "Because I had the weirdest dream... jerked off in my fuckin' sleep."

Deidara stifled a snort of laughter. "No, we didn't screw around," he said. "You passed out before I could put the moves on you." He bit his lip when he thought about how he had molested the swordsman, being dominant for the first time in his life. "What was your dream about?" he asked. "Sounds like it was pretty sexy."

A bemused grin slid over Kisame's lips. "I was back in Kiri," he stated. "Getting, err... fucked by someone."

A blush heated Deidara's cheeks and blood rushed to his groin. "Getting fucked?" he stammered. "By a _guy_?"

"My superior," Kisame murmured. "We used to screw quite a lot before he got fuckin' _fat_."

"Um," Deidara stuttered, astonished. "Who, Fuguki?" In his long obsession with Kisame, he had scrounged up a photo of the previous wielder of Samehada - the man did _not _look attractive. _Although if he was thin... _he pondered, trying to form a mental image. _Yah, I guess I can see it. _Considering he was undoubtedly going to jerk off thinking about the two banging in the near future, coming up with some sexy imagery was crucial. "So... lemme get this straight," he said, fighting an impulse to start rubbing his cock through his pants. "Fuguki was... on _top?_"

"Damnit, it was a long time ago, okay?" Kisame growled, shifting uncomfortably.

"But..."

"Yes, he was on top! Now drop it!" The swordsman's cheeks were blushing a pretty shade of violet.

Deidara inched a little closer so that their legs were touching. "You told me you'd never been with a man before," he said softly. When he placed a hand on Kisame's thigh, he was delighted to find that the older man didn't shy away.

"Yah, well... I lied," Kisame muttered, his gaze fluttering over the blonde. "I don't like to tell people about it."

Deidara bit his lip and cautiously slid his hand up the swordsman's thigh, making the older man's breath hitch. "Then why did you tell me?" he asked. _ Is it because you want me to fuck you? _he thought, nearly delerious with perverted thoughts.

"I don't know," Kisame sighed. "I think I'm still drunk." He looked down at the blonde's hand then back up, an unreadable expression on his face. "Stop hitting on me, Deidara," he growled. "We have a dangerous mission to plan out, remember?" His dark eyes narrowed slightly as he scanned the beach. "And where the hell is Sasori?" he asked.

Deidara smirked and continued his groping, inching his fingers closer to Kisame's groin. "He's probably not gonna show up for another half-hour, at least," he said. "We had an argument last night and I tossed Hiruko into the ocean. He's got the stupid thing all disassembled so he can rinse out the saltwater."

Kisame cursed under his breath. "Ridiculous," he muttered. He looked as though he was about to ask what the argument was about but held his tongue.

"I was trying to fish," Deidara explained, grinning. "With bombs." Met with an incredulous glare, he added, "I don't know a thing about catching fish! Iwa's landlocked!"

"Well, you're not supposed to _bomb _them," Kisame growled. "No wonder Sasori got mad at you!"

Deidara shrugged, his face hot with lust more than embarrassment. "I gave you my last food pill," he said softly as his fingers wandered over to the swordsman's cock. "I was hungry." He bit his lip as he cautiously grasped Kisame's shaft through his pants - it was half-hard, as if confused. "Either way, we have some time to kill before he shows up," he sighed.

"You're relentless," Kisame murmured. He warily scanned the beach again, perhaps looking for an excuse not to fool around - it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. The only obvious thing was his erection, stiffening in the blonde's persistant grasp. When he leaned back onto one arm and muttered a curse, Deidara decided it was the closest thing he was going to get to an invitation. He grabbed the swordsman by the hair and pulled him in for a kiss, trying not to be rough in his excitement. Kisame tensed briefly - for a second he seemed as though he was going to throw a punch - before hesitantly letting their mouths press together.

The contact ran a thrill down Deidara's spine and self-control left him immediately. He'd been yearning for this moment ever since they'd last parted ways, obsessing over it. Kisame's slick mouth was even more inviting than he remembered - he couldn't help but hungrily invade it with his tongue, his fingers eagerly twisting the man's thick hair. _I'll take you right here in the sand, _he thought deleriously as he straddled the swordsman's lap and forced him to lay down beneath him. Kisame growled a muffled curse, his eyes narrowed. When their lips finally parted, he was breathing quickly, shock evident on his sharp features. He'd probably been assuming Deidara would act shy and passive like he had in the past.

"Damnit, Deidara," he sighed, his hands resting tentatively on the blonde's hips. "You're acting like a bitch in heat!"

A grin played hotly over the blonde's lips as he groped Kisame's bare chest, rubbing his thumb over the man's left nipple until it was hard as a little pebble. "I want you so bad it hurts," he breathed. He leaned down and tongued the swordsman's nipple, biting it lightly until Kisame squirmed and groaned beneath him, his cock fully erect. _ This is just like my fantasy, _he thought feverishly. _Maybe I'm dreaming! _As he moved down further, pausing to run his tongue around the man's navel before sinking to the waistline of his pants, Kisame panted and bucked his hips, his slender body moving in the same enticing way he'd imagined last night. He was so eager to strip off the swordsman's pants that he nearly ripped them in his haste.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Kisame growled breathlessly, watching in shock as Deidara roughly tugged off one pant leg, not even bothering to take his sandal off first.

"I don't know," Deidara breathed, hungrily running his hands over the swordsman's bare thighs. "What do you want me to do?" The irony that Kisame had said this to him the first time they'd fucked didn't escape him.

The expression on Kisame's face was unforgettable - a raw blend of lust and anxiety. "I have absolutely no idea what I want," he murmured. His motions were stiff and hesitant as he reached up and ripped open Deidara's cloak. "Take that shit off," he growled, blushing. "I don't want to fuck on this sand."

The blonde eagerly complied, laying the cloak over the ground and impatiently wrestling Kisame onto it. If the swordsman was actually going to let him be on top, he wanted to get in his cock as quickly as possible before the man changed his mind. He wet his fingers with his mouth, dizzy with disbelief, then guided them between Kisame's legs.

"Goddamnit!" Kisame huffed, his eyes wide as Deidara slipped a finger into his ass. "Are you _serious_?"

"I've never been more serious about anything in my life!" Deidara gasped, his face on fire. Kisame's passage was slick and tight, squeezing his finger as he forced it in to the knuckle. He groaned and bit his lip as he began to thrust it in and out, trying and failing not to be too rough in his haste. Kisame's breath hitched, shock paling his features - it was obvious that he had _not _been expecting this to happen. Yet his cock was hard as steel, the tip glistening with a bead of precum. Deidara bent down and licked the head as he thrusted, loving the way the swordsman's slick seed felt against his tongue. He teased the shaft for a minute, flicking his tongue over the sensitive underside, then took it in his mouth. Kisame shivered and bucked his hips, his hands clenching the cloak beneath him so hard the knuckles were white - it was clear that getting treated this way turned him on immensely.

_I can't believe he's letting me do this, _Deidara thought, so horny he could barely stand it. _ Who would have thought that someone like him would enjoy being on the bottom? _When he inserted a second finger, Kisame panted a curse and squirmed eagerly, his cock thrusting hungrily into the younger man's mouth. Deidara groaned, indulging in the feel of both penetrating and being penetrated as he scissored his fingers.

Suddenly, Kisame grabbed the blonde by the arm and pulled him on top of him. "Come on," he breathed. "If Sasori shows up right now, I will literally _kill _you!" He quickly unfastened Deidara's pants and pulled out his cock, grasping it tightly. "Spit on it," he growled, his rough voice bizarrely contrasting the vulnerable expression on his face. As Deidara wet his dick, he couldn't help but drink in the beauty of the moment - Kisame's lithe, exotic body was sprawled beneath him for the taking, his blue skin glistening like a mirage in the early morning light. He wished he could capture this image and dwell on it for an eternity... every detail was breathtaking, almost profound. He imagined this was the way an explorer felt when they reached the summit of some remote, unscaled mountain - an overwhelming mixture of awe and triumph.

"Stop ogling me and put in your damn cock," Kisame huffed, breaking Deidara's elaborate train of thought. "If you keep hesitating, you'll be the one getting fucked!"

"Sorry," Deidara breathed. "I was just relishing in the moment!" He gasped when Kisame impatiently guided his cock to his ass, rubbing the slick tip against the spot. The sensation was thrilling - he bit his lip and cautiously pushed, then cursed softly when the head slipped in. The only thing he'd ever fucked until now was his own hand... there was no doubt that Kisame's ass felt a million times better. When the swordsman grabbed his hip and forced him to bury his cock the rest of the way, he nearly fainted from the pleasure.

"Fuck," Kisame panted, glaring down at himself. He squirmed and tightened his grip on Deidara's hip, roughly urging the younger man to start thrusting in and out. The only sign that the intrusion was painful was a little furrow of his eyebrows - the rest of his body betrayed nothing but a furious, eager lust. As Deidara obeyed the swordsman's rough commands, slamming his cock in to the hilt with each thrust, he was amazed at how different the man acted in this situation than he did himself - where he was shy and afraid, Kisame was brazen and aggressive, somehow still dominant even with a cock up his ass. In this aspect, reality diverged from the blonde's fantasy of Kisame blushing and crying like a whimpering virgin. But it was still hot - even hotter, if that was possible.

"Go faster, you bitch!" Kisame growled between breathless sighs, wrapping his legs around Deidara's waist like a vice.

"In this situation," Deidara panted, a crooked grin sliding over his lips, "I think you're the bitch." He glared hotly at the naked, blue body writhing beneath him as he increased his pace, stabbing his cock into the tight passage as far as it would go with each thrust. When he grazed his thumb over Kisame's lips, the swordsman growled feverishly, his breath hitching in his throat. Deidara groaned a curse, relishing in the thought of penetrating the man in both the mouth and ass, then slipped two fingers in, pushing them past his sharp teeth and into the wet heat beyond. Kisame's eyes were half-lidded and insanely bright as the blonde finger-fucked his mouth - he looked utterly vulnerable, as if being violated in this way was much more intense than being fucked in the ass. Deidara reminded himself that just hours earlier, a tiny food pill sliding down the man's throat had brought him to hysteria. He could see that same fear now in the swordsman's eyes, a deep-seated phobia - yet it was hazed over with lust. When he looked down, he was shocked to see that Kisame was grasping his cock, stroking himself in rythym with the thrusts.

"Fuck, Kisame," he gasped, choking on his words. "You're gonna make me cum!" The swordsman's response was a crazed, flushed glare - his body was tense and his cock was wet with precum in his hand. Beside himself with lust, Deidara slipped his fingers out of Kisame's mouth and replaced them with his tongue, furiously fucking the wet heat until the swordsman moaned desperately beneath him and shuddered, his legs clamped painfully around the blonde's waist as he spilled his seed. Spurred on by Kisame's orgasm, Deidara followed a split second later, coating the tight passage with cum until he was spent.

It took both men a while after that to even bother moving - the shock of what they had just done was as intense as the orgasm. Deidara could tell Kisame was in a state of disbelief, his hands trembling ever so slightly as he absently stroked the blonde's back. When Deidara finally pulled out and lifted himself up, the swordsman looked pale and exhausted. He wondered with a pang of guilt if he had made a mistake in being so aggressive.

"Are you alright?" he asked hesitantly, his heart beating quickly in his chest.

"Yah," Kisame said after an unnerving pause. He looked off to the side, a listless expression on his face. "I just haven't done that in a really long time..." Where he had been as see-through as glass minutes earlier, it was once again impossible to tell what he was thinking. He was still looking away when he struggled to a sitting position, his hair sticking up in disheveled spikes. "Let's wash up in the ocean before Sasori gets here," he stated blandly.

"Umm... alright," Deidara murmured. He felt an urge to comfort the swordsman, although he wasn't sure for what specifically. When they had both shed their remaining clothes, he tentatively reached over and touched Kisame's back, rubbing it gently. A flash of emotion flickered over the man's eyes before vanishing - it was so brief it was as if hadn't even happened. But in that split second, he had seen a raw vulnerability... perhaps a desire to be comforted.

Kisame stiffly rose to his feet and shed his headband so that his hair hung over his eyes, hiding whatever secret they held. "Hurry up," he growled. He turned and stalked rigidly into the water, slipping past the waves with an ease that suggested he'd done this a million times before. Deidara awkwardly followed, losing his footing a few times as the waves crashed against him. Once he had finally made it past the break, Kisame was so far away he was nearly invisible, his blue skin blending elusively with the water.

_Damnit_, Deidara seethed, squinting at the swordsman's vague outline. _We were so close I was literally inside him... yet still I know nothing about him! _Sure, he knew bits and pieces - but the real man and what he'd been through remained a mystery, revealed only in those occasional, heartbreaking glimpses into his eyes.

X X X

Sasori was bitter about a lot of things. He was bitter about his past with Sunagakure, his present situation with the Akatsuki, and several issues in between. If one adjective had to describe him, 'bitter' fit the bill, even more so than 'ruthless' or 'sadistic', which were the two other words most commonly thrown in with the mention of his name. But what could he say? He had a lot to be bitter about, especially in the last few weeks. Deidara was high on the list - the blonde had caused him nothing but woe and muddled feelings ever since they became partners - and Kisame was up there too, even more so than usual.

Kisame had always gotten under his skin, both riling and strangely arousing him over the years. He wasn't the only one the swordsman affected in such a way - everyone in the Akatsuki had a confused, frustrated boner for Kisame. The bastard's animalistic appearance and blue skin seemed to spark a weird fetish in the back of people's minds. Kakuzu and Hidan wanted to team up on him in some sadomasochistic fashion, Konan and Pain stared at him in the guilty way one might stare at an exceptionally dirty picture in a porno mag, and Zetsu literally wanted to eat him. And Sasori was no better - the image of that exotic, blue body bound and bloodied was more than a little enticing.

Everyone ogled the swordsman but Itachi had always been the worst... the handsome Uchiha could have anyone he desired, yet it was glaringly obvious that he wanted Kisame and no one else. The way he looked at the man when he wasn't watching was intense enough to give the puppetmaster a chill - and it took a lot to disturb Sasori. The Uchiha's glare held a sick obsession that fringed on madness, and it had grown worse and worse over the years. How Kisame could be so oblivious to such a blatant thing eluded Sasori. The naivety of some people astounded him... yet he supposed that to the untrained eye, the issue wasn't nearly as obvious. After all, the puppetmaster's ability to read into people was like a sixth sense.

In his years of dissecting people both mentally and physically, Sasori had become extremely adept at analyzing the little nuances of human behavior... whether he wanted to or not, he saw things that were invisible to most. For instance, he was aware of Itachi's disease even though no one had ever divulged the information to him - incurable, chronically painful, eating away at both body and mind. Itachi also had a brain full of traumatic memories and the fact that he kept these bottled up deep inside greatly increased the severity of his sickness, the same way a small cut could cause a crippling infection if unattended. The result - a man so unstable Sasori could almost hear him ticking like a time bomb. The puppetmaster was also acutely aware of Kisame's various issues - his self-destructive eating disorder, his secret aversion to violence, his sad, obsessive love for Kirigakure. Buried beneath the swordsman's callous shell was a deeply empathetic soul, crippled with guilt... Sasori saw it with chilling clarity every time he looked the man in the eye. He wondered if anyone else was aware of it - perhaps even Kisame himself didn't know what a miserable fucker he really was.

All in all, Kisame and Itachi were two of the most screwed up people he'd ever met. The fact that they were partnered together was just... _ridiculous_. Sasori wished dearly that someone - _anyone _- besides himself could see the obvious danger the two posed to eachother and those around them. _ They shouldn't be anywhere near eachother, _he seethed. _ If I ran this organization, I'd make sure they were a thousand miles apart at all times! _In the past, he hadn't given a shit about the duo's issues, but now that Deidara was involved, it was suddenly all he could think about. He cared about the blonde far more than he wanted to, agonizing over his well-being like an overprotective parent. The fact that the younger man had chosen Kisame to be his lover made him more worried than jealous - it was just a matter of time before Itachi stepped in and did something horrible. The swordsman's battered appearance was proof that the Uchiha didn't approve of the relationship. Unfortunately, there wasn't much Sasori could do about the situation. Trying to dissuade Deidara from being with Kisame was utterly pointless, especially after what he'd done upon first hearing the news - as horny as it had been to tie the blonde down and make him cum, he'd lost the younger man's trust... what little had been there in the first place.

_Well, there's no point in agonizing over it right now,_ he decided. _ I'll be lucky just to survive the day. _ The looming danger of the mission ahead was a far more pressing concern... going anywhere near one of Orochimaru's hideouts without a sensory type like Itachi was absolutely _ludicrous_. While all Akatsuki missions were dangerous, this topped the list. It made him wonder if Pain was even fit to be ordering people around - anyone with a level head on their shoulders would have canceled the operation by now.

Sasori had good reason to be critical - he knew Orochimaru better than anyone else in the Akatsuki and he was all too aware of the man's abilities. As a comrade, the sannin had been like a mentor to Sasori, sharing his vast knowledge of poisons and scientific methods, yet as a foe, he was one of the most dangerous men on earth. The puppetmaster would rather take his own life than be captured and subjected to the man's ruthless experiments. As he sat in the shade of a palm tree, giving Hiruko one last lookover, the urge to flee was strong - just the thought of becoming one of Orochimaru's test subjects chilled him to the core.

_But if I leave, Deidara and Kisame will have to start the mission by themselves, _he brooded. He couldn't care less about Kisame - if the swordsman died, it would actually make his life a lot simpler. But if anything were to happen to Deidara? Just the thought of it made him sick with dread.

Once he had thoroughly inspected Hiruko, he reverse-summoned the puppet into a scroll and stashed it in his clock. He hadn't felt like wearing the thing since reaching the coast - the nice weather and gorgeous scenery made him miss his senses more than ever, and walking around in his true form helped with the illusion that he could feel the pleasant breeze on his skin. Touch, taste, smell... it had been so long since he had posessed these senses that he could barely remember what they had felt like. If he were to suddenly regain them, the sensations would probably send him reeling. But he still missed it from time to time. If there had been a way to tranfer all the senses to his puppet body, he most certainly would have done it.

Sighing, he rose to his feet and started walking to the meeting site. Deidara had insisted that he show up a little late - the sheepish grin on the blonde's face had suggested that he was going to try to get laid. _Perverted little bastard,_ Sasori mused, only slightly annoyed. _Kisame's definitely got his hands full. _Deidara was way more of a perv than his innocent appearance suggested... he'd revealed a few of his fantasies to the puppetmaster and most of them involved sadistically fucking Kisame in the ass or mouth. As ridiculous as the idea sounded, Sasori had to admit that it was pretty damn hot - he had the same fantasies himself, after all. The swordsman just had so much... _potential_...

There were many kinky possibilities when Kisame was the subject of a perverted daydream, but Sasori found one particular aspect to be especially enticing. Like many other Kiri shinobi who had been subjected to the brutal training methods of the Bloody Mist Village, Kisame was extremely subserviant - he'd been brainwashed into blindly following orders, engrained with the notion that he was just a mindless tool. One couldn't help but wonder if that obedience would hold up during sex. Would the swordsman suck dick and spread his legs if he was ordered to? Would he take a cock up his ass if it somehow pertained to a mission? Sasori couldn't fathom what kind of mission that would be... but the concept was still hot as hell. And he had a feeling that Kisame would let someone top him even without orders; most people with a personality like his enjoyed being degraded. _ If I was in Deidara's shoes, I'd definitely test out the theory, _he thought. _ And I wouldn't go easy on him either... I'd torture the bastard until he begged for mercy! The Bloody Mist's methods would seem like child's play before I was through! _He walked toward the beach with a liesurely pace, letting the idle fantasy unfold in his mind. _It would have to be a brutal torture... _he brooded. _Perahps I'd tie him up and let everyone in the Akatsuki fuckin' gang rape him! That would show him! But I'd probably have to poison him beforehand so he'd be too weak to struggle... _As he indulged in the mental imagery of Kisame half-dead and covered in cum, a wry smirk slid over his lips. _Kisame was right about me yesterday, _he mused. _ I'm a sadistic pervert in my mid-thirties disguised as an innocent fifteen year-old!_ But he was grateful for his deceptive appearance - he had a feeling that if he looked his age, it would be a lot more obvious what a sick fucker he was inside.

When he spotted Deidara and Kisame's forms on the beach, he was slightly disappointed that the two weren't tangeled together. His twisted fantasy had left him feeling horny and lecherous - it would have made his morning to spy on a heated sex scene from the cover of a dune. But as he drew nearer, part of his desire was sated when he saw that the two had obviously just fucked. Deidara's long hair was dripping wet and Kisame was impatiently wrestling his shoes onto his sandy feet. Apparently, they'd had just enough time to hastily bang then take a dip in the ocean. His eyes widened when he got close enough to see the expressions on their faces - Deidara looked absolutely smitten, his contented smirk contrasting Kisame's listless, hollow gaze. It was so obvious what had happened that Sasori didn't even have to wonder. _Holy shit, so the brat actually got to be on top, _he marveled, utterly shocked. _How the hell did he get Kisame to do it? _He felt a pang of jealousy - toward Deidara, for once. He'd been fantasizing about penetrating that sharky bastard back when the blonde was sprouting his first pubic hair! _ Lucky little fucker, _he seethed. _ He always gets what he wants!_

"You're late," Kisame growled, snapping Sasori out of his thoughts.

"Oh, can it," the puppetmaster muttered, shooting Kisame a dry glare. "Would you rather I had shown up while you were getting _fucked?_"

The swordsman opened his mouth then shut it, a magenta blush coloring his cheeks as he floundered for words.

"Save your breath," Sasori sneered. "I was just screwing with you. I have no idea whether you just got ass-raped or not!" He narrowed his eyes and grinned wickedly. "But if I had to take a wild guess, I'd say that you did," he mused. "It's written all over your dumb fuckin' face."

"Damnit, Sasori," Deidara snapped, glaring furiously at the puppetmaster. "Do you have to be an asshole every second of your life?"

"Don't call me an asshole after you just _fucked _one," Sasori replied acidly as he took a seat in the sand by the blonde. "Speaking of which, did you even get it in? Or did you just dry-hump his leg like a chihuaha trying to fuck a great dane?" He glanced back over at Kisame but quickly diverted his gaze - the swordsman's teeth were bared in a fierce snarl and his eyes were iced over with an utterly murderous rage. He looked like he was about to pounce on the redhead and rip out his heart. _ Hell hath no fury like a bastard scorned, _he thought to himself, shifting uncomfortably.

After a few long minutes of heated silence, he rolled his eyes and sighed. "Lighten up, you two," he muttered. "You should both be used to my insults by now."

"I was waiting for an apology and instead you give me an excuse?" Kisame seethed. "What the fuck is the _matter _with you?" After a moment of waiting for a response, he cursed and dismissed the question with a half-hearted wave of his hand. "You know what, just forget it," he growled. "Hearing you talk is just giving me a headache."

"Likewise," Sasori sneered.

"Great. Once again, you two have deduced that you hate eachother," Deidara said sarcastically. "Good job. Now can we start planning out this mission?" He winced slightly when the two older men simultaneously shot him a glare. "Please?" he added meekly.

"Well, there's not much to plan out until we locate the hideout," Kisame stated, rubbing his temples. "And like Pain said, Deidara should be able to find it from the sky." He locked his eyes on the blonde's, wearing a stoic expression on his face in an attempt to hide his concern. "I want you to scan the area within a ten-mile diameter," he said. "Fly as high as you possibly can to avoid detection and if you see any sign of a structure, use your scope to zoom in if you have to. Do _not _swoop down lower to get yourself a first-hand look, got it? You're to keep yourself out of the range of detection no matter what and report back to us the second you see anything!"

"Shit, alright," Deidara repied sourly. "Don't burst a blood vessel!"

"I'm just trying to make myself clear," Kisame growled. "If you take this mission lightly, you'll end up getting captured."

Deidara looked like he was about to say another crass remark but Sasori cut him off. "Kisame's not exaggerating," he snapped. "We all have to treat this mission with the utmost caution, especially you! Don't drop your guard for a _second!_" He realized that he had just unwittingly backed up the swordsman but he was too worried to let it bother him.

"Fine, I get it," Deidara said sullenly, the look on his face suggesting that his pride was wounded. He rose to his feet and quickly produced a clay hawk, expanding it with a flicker of his fingers. When he jumped lightly onto the bird's back, the only thing preventing him from taking off right then was another mutual glare from his comrades.

"You have one hour," Kisame stated bluntly. "If you're not back by then, I'm going to assume you ran into trouble."

"And then what?" Deidara sneered. "You'll worry even more?"

"Then we'll come looking for you, you prick," Sasori growled. "So be back here within an hour!"

The impetuous pout that had been curving the blonde's lips finally disappeared. "Okay, I understand," he relented - it was obvious he was putting forth a fair amount of effort to keep the sarcasm out of his tone. "It shouldn't take me that long but I'll make sure not to lose track of time." He pulled his scope out of his cloak and fastened it to the side of his face. The apparatus had been utterly wrecked after the blonde's mission with Kisame... Sasori had spent a fair amount of time repairing it and, of course, waterproofing it. "I'll be back soon," Deidara said lightly. He grinned and gave a half-hearted salute as the hawk left the ground with a few brisk flaps of its wings. Neither man returned the salute - they were both too concerned to anything but stare sullenly at the blonde as he flew away. Sasori looked over at Kisame... the man's mouth was open slightly as if he wanted to shout 'come back!'

_Damn this mission,_ he seethed, furious. He tried to supress the terrible feeling that they'd just sent Deidara off to his doom.


	13. Chapter 13

Kisame managed to sit still for about five minutes before he stood up and started pacing, making a little rut in the sand with his footprints. _I should have gone with him, _he brooded, the sentence repeating obsessively in his mind. _ I shouldn't have sent him off alone... I should have gone with him!_

"Oh, for crying out loud, will you fuckin' knock it off?!" Sasori grated, shooting Kisame a dark glare. The puppetmaster's lilting voice held none of its usual dry sarcasm... he sounded as close to panic as Kisame had ever heard him. "Pacing around and muttering under your breath isn't doing anything to help Deidara!" he grated. "All it's doing is pissing me the _fuck _off!"

"Well, be pissed off then," Kisame growled, sticking out his middle finger. "And watch your mouth around me... unless you want to find that ridiculous body of yours at the bottom of the ocean."

Sasori stood up so quickly it was unnerving - there was no tensing of muscles, no grudging heave of a body forcing itself to pull against gravity. It was just an abnormal assembly of limbs, floating upward and seperating briefly before briskly reconnecting. Usually the puppetmaster did his best to look human... but it was obvious that right now, he didn't give a shit. "_I _should watch my mouth around _you_?" he seethed. "I'm older than you, you fucking stripling! Didn't you learn anything about respecting your elders back in Kiri?!"

A grin slid over Kisame's lips... he could feel Samehada bristling against his back, eager for a fight. Kicking Sasori's ass a little would be a great way to pass the time and relieve some stress. "Sure I did," he sneered as he unholstered the blade and pointed it at the redhead. "I learned that age and rank are nothing more than petty statistics - I no longer take such things into account. And even if I did, you're only a few years my senior and you're also lower in rank than me in the Akatsuki. To top it off, you're a vain, selfish piece of shit who looks like a goddamned child. Does that clear things up for you?"

"Ugh, you're such a fuckin' bastard!" Sasori spat as he unbuttoned his cloak with a few rigid motions of his hand. "No wonder Itachi beat the shit outta you and _raped _you! I'm surprised he didn't cut your fucking _tongue _out while he was at it!"

Kisame's heart froze in his chest. He tightened his grip on Samehada, afraid his hands would start shaking in his shock. "How the hell do you know that?" he growled, trying not sound as utterly mortified as he felt. _Did he run into Itachi on his way here or what? _he thought frantically, his brain scrambling for an answer.

"Wow, so that's really what happened?" Sasori marveled, his eyes wide with genuine surprise as he shrugged off his cloak. "I was just screwing with you... as usual. You're really bad at detecting bullshit, you know that?"

"You're _kidding _me," Kisame grated, furious. Suddenly, the urge to rip out the redhead's heart and crush it in his hands was intense - he had to force himself not to lose his temper, taking deep breaths to slow his racing heartbeat. This was the second time Sasori had tricked him into a confession... he had done the same exact thing a few months after the Tsukiyomi ordeal. Although the puppetmaster hadn't found out exactly what had happened, he'd gotten Kisame to divulge that Itachi was the culprit. _ And now this? _the swordsman seethed, his mind racing. _ I really *should* kill him before he tells anyone!_

Apparently Sasori could see the murderous intent forming in Kisame's eyes because he assumed a defensive stance, his shoes digging into the sand. "Don't worry," he said carefully. "I'm not about to go around telling people."

"You say that," Kisame growled. "But I have no reason to believe you. There's only one solution I can think of." A few spikes burst through Samehada's binding as if emphasizing the statement. "I'd rather kill you than have Deidara find out about this! Or anyone else, for that matter! There's enough bullshit circulating through the rumor mill about me already."

"Oh, so what," Sasori said. "Everyone wants a piece of you... of course they're going to talk shit. Even if I _did _tell everyone Itachi raped you, it would just turn into another perverted rumor. There's so many myths about you and Itachi fucking, no one can even tell them apart anymore!" His eyes were locked on Kisame's, analyzing. "And as for Deidara? Chances are, he already knows. You're not as hard to read as you think."

"Shut up, Sasori," the swordsman hissed. "Everything that spills out of your mouth is just... _utter bullshit!_"His head felt light with rage and his muscles were coiled tight like springs. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time," he growled. "I'm almost glad you finally gave me a reason!"

Sasori's mouth opened then closed and his eyes were darting around, as if he might find some solution to this conundrum laying around on the beach. It was obvious in his panicked expression that he hadn't intended to instigate a fight to the death. "What about the mission?" he finally said. "Won't you be... disobeying orders?"

"Damnit man, I'm not a robot!" Kisame seethed. "And I'm sick of hearing you talk! Shut the fuck up and defend yourself!" Before Sasori could spout anything else, the swordsman sprang into motion, forcing the redhead to stop plotting and fight for his life. As Samehada freed itself from its binds in a blur of bristling spines, Kisame wondered if Sasori's weird human heart would bleed when pierced. He hoped it would... he wanted to feel blood on his hands at the end of this battle.

X X X

Deidara had been flying around for at least half an hour with absolutely no luck, circling the area in wider and wider sweeps until he was at the limit of his search radius. His eye hurt from squinting through his scope and the wind was just brisk enough to make his flight unpleasant. He hadn't seen a single straight line or rigid angle beneath the tree cover - absolutely nothing suggesting the presence of a man-made structure. If Orochimaru was really out here, perhaps he had concealed his hideout with some sort of illusion jutsu? Either that or Deidara was just missing the damn place... which was also a possibility.

It was difficult to focus on the mission with the sensations of fucking Kisame still fresh in his mind. He could barely believe it had even happened, yet there was no denying that just an hour earlier, the swordsman had been sprawled beneath him, writhing on his cock. _ Why did he let me fuck him? _he wondered for the millionth time. _Why? Why? Why?! _In the end, the 'why' didn't really matter, though. The fact of the matter was, he had gotten what he'd wanted... what he'd only dreamed of doing! Perhaps that was the part that baffled him the most - things had never really gone his way before, especially since joining the Akatsuki. Kisame was the first good thing that had happened to him in, well, _forever_. He was almost worried... an event so fucking awesome just seemed like it would have some sort of reprocussion, the ilk of which he couldn't begin to fathom. Karma... or something. Deidara's luck was usually so shitty, it seemed as though the universe tilted off balance when he actually got his way. _Maybe Sasori will try to rape me again, _he thought bitterly. _That would probably set things right._

He quickly snapped out of his thoughts when something caught the corner of his eye. He had seen a flash of white beneath the forest canopy, a shimmer of something... _abnormal_. He made his hawk fly in a spiral as he leaned over slightly and zoomed his scope in on the spot. _Damnit, what was that? _he thought desperately, his eye racing to catch up with the quick pace of the magnification. Sasori had tweaked the scope to make it zoom in much more than it had previously - at the highest magnification, it was dizzying. Yet still... what had he seen?

He caught it again, just briefly. Through the nauseating sweep of detailed leaves, he saw another flash of white. White and... was that purple? He couldn't get a lock on it, whatever it was. _ If only these damn leaves weren't in the way! _he seethed, irritated and insanely curious. After a few more sweeps with no luck, he sighed and looked away, blinking away a bout of nausea. The scope's magnification was no subsitution for a first-hand look. Going against what Kisame and Sasori had so adamantly told him, he swooped in a little lower and scanned the area again. And there it was - a small object, white and purple. He squinted, swooped lower, zoomed in some more. His heart raced as the detail became clearer.

_That's not an object,_ he realized. _It's a person! _He could see a pale face, framed with long, jet-back hair. He'd never seen a picture of Orochimaru but the descriptions he'd heard matched this man's appearance with chilling accuracy. _Just a little closer and I can be sure! _he justified, tense with adrenaline. He swooped lower, zoomed in again.

When he caught sight of the person again, his heart froze in his chest. The man's face was tilted upward and a pair of inhuman amber eyes were locked on his. For a second he was gripped by a terror so strong he could do nothing but dumbly stare back. Those eyes, that sickly, pale skin... something in those abnormal features sparked an animalistic fear, the like of which he'd never felt before. When the man's grinning line of a mouth opened and something metalic jutted from the dark gap between his lips, Deidara nearly fell off his bird in his horror.

_Evade, evade! Damnit, evade! _His thoughts were loud as screams in his head, forcing him to finally look away and jerk the bird's flight path sharply to the side. As he did so, he felt something rip into the clay of a wing - he looked over to find the tip of an absurdly long metal blade slicing through it like a knife through butter. _ Is that what came out of his mouth?! _he thought hysterically. He lept off the felled hawk and dug his hand into his clay, forming another bird to catch him in freefall. The blade retracted as quickly as it had appeared, slipping back down into the cover of the canopy and, he could only assume, Orochimaru's throat. He expanded the bird with a shaky handsign and mounted it as he fell, digging his sandals into the crook of its wings for balance. Its talons brushed the leaves of the canopy as he quickly righted it and shot back up into the sky. Once he was high enough to take a breath of relief, he chewed up some more clay with his palm and formed a handful of honing bombs, immediately hurling them downward and detonating them when they pierced the canopy. The explosion was a deafening ball of fire, hurling tree limbs this way and that like they were little more than toothpicks._ I don't care how immortal he is, _he thought to himself as he peered down intently at the blast area. _No one can live after being blown to a million pieces! _A voice in the back of his mind was screaming _escape while you can! _but he forced himself to stay, forming another round of bombs. _If I kill this bastard, we won't have to deal with him in the future! _he told himself. _And Kisame will probably suck my dick as a reward!_

His eyes widened as the smoke from the explosion began to clear. Something was writhing down there, something enormous and revolting. _Dear lord, it's a giant snake!_ he realized as he zoomed in his scope. His mouth went dry as he focused on the creature's gigantic, twisting body, its purple scales glistening as if wet. Trees were falling under its thrashing bulk as it slithered into a huge coil and amongst the abominable curves, the blonde glimpsed a pair of sinister, intellegent eyes. The monster was staring up directly at him, hungrily flicking its forked tongue. On its large plane of a forehead stood Orochimaru, who appeared to be grinning as if amused.

_Maybe, just maybe,_ Deidara thought,_ I might have gotten in over my head!_

X X X

Sasori had known death was imminent back when he'd seen that first glint of murderous intent in Kisame's eyes. After half an hour of battle, his demise was so inevitable that he could feel it in his core. The swordsman had forced him out to sea almost immediately, grabbing the cord in his chest cavity and slinging him into the water's depths as if he was no heavier than a kunai. After that, everything was just a wet blur. Kisame's ability to manipulate water was absolutely terrifying - the entire sea became his weapon, chewing him up in its vast maw - not to mention the swordsman himself, who Sasori was certain had acheived immortality via some brickheaded, tenacious feat. The man had taken a huge number of hits from the puppetmaster's large array of poisoned weapons but he brushed off each blow like it was little more than a papercut, the wounds healing as soon as they had formed. It was impossible to tell whether or not the poison was affecting him... if it was, he wasn't letting it show. Was he immune? Sasori had known that the bastard possessed some sort of healing ability but he never would have thought that it would be so damn effective.

Eventually the redhead had changed his tactics, moving to long range attacks in a feeble hope the swordsman's chakra would gradually deplete. But it seemed to work opposite of what he'd intended - Kisame only grew stronger, while his own chakra was waning far more quickly than it ever had in the past. He knew next to nothing of the man's abilities, other than a few rumors that he possessed the chakra of a biju and that his sword ate people's lifeforce. He'd always believed these rumors to be just that - rumors. Now he was painfully aware that Kisame not only lived up to these legends... he _exceeded _them. It would be beautiful to witness such strength under any other circumstance but as it was, Kisame's inhuman battle prowess would probably be the last thing he ever witnessed.

_Damnit,_ he seethed. _Why did I ever have to open my mouth about Itachi raping him?! I had no idea it actually happened... I didn't *want* to know! _ He bitterly cursed his own idiocy as another carnivorous wave crashed toward him. He was so low on chakra that evading was becoming difficult - he could barely keep his feet planted above the water's roiling surface. He managed to partially dodge the onslaught, nearly spinning offbalance against the impact. Performance of a hundred puppets? Forget about it! He could barely stand up!

When Kisame finally pinned him, he was too exhausted to struggle much. All he managed to do was bury a kunai into the man's shoulder on his way down - it went bone deep into the flesh but was met with barely a flinch. Seconds later he was immobilized in the swordsman's strong grip, both his hands pinned uselessly under just one of Kisame's. The water finally calmed beneath him, lapping at his sides.

"That was a little disappointing," Kisame breathed as he pulled the kunai out of his shoulder and clenched it in his fist. "I thought you'd put up more of a fight." Blood poured down his arm and dispersed into murky clouds in the water - he glanced at the wound with a look of mild annoyance.

"It should be obvious that suiton is a weakness of mine," Sasori growled. "I was doomed from the start." Despite the grimness of the situation, he couldn't help but rove his eyes over the swordsman's taut body and wish their positions were switched. _ I suppose there's worse ways to die, _he thought to himself. _ Kisame's a pretty hot sight to go out on._ He'd been a lecherous pervert ever since hitting puberty twenty-something years ago; it wasn't surprising to him at all that his last thoughts were sex-related. If he had a free hand, he'd probably use it to cop a feel.

"Well... now you die," Kisame growled, raising the kunai above his head. His eyes were frighteningly cold - for once they were actually unreadable, revealing none of their usual heartbreaking empathy. The Bloody Mist had trained him well, engraining him with the instinct to reflexively shut off his humanity during acts of murder.

"Wait!" Sasori interjected, an out-of place grin sliding over his lips. "Just answer me one thing first! How the hell did Itachi manage to rape you, anyway? Just tell me and I'll die in peace, I swear!"

"Fine. If you must know, he used a paralysis genjutsu," Kisame muttered, his muscles tense. "He has a way of inflicting his sharingan with handsigns now. As if avoiding his eyes wasn't bad enough."

"That's brutal," Sasori mused. "It must suck to be you."

Kisame's eyes wavered briefly before icing over again. "Yeah, yeah," he finally said. "We can talk about it more when we meet in hell." And then the kunai was descending, aimed for the redhead's heart. Sasori cringed animalistically, wondering if it was going to hurt. When the rumble of an explosion met his ears, he honestly thought it was the sound of his core being punctured. Dizzy with the anticipation of death, it took him a moment to realize that not only was he still alive but the sound had come from somewhere else. He looked down to find the kunai poised a hairswidth above his heart, suspended as if frozen in time.

"Deidara," Kisame murmured, glaring intently off to the north. "He's fighting someone." For an agonizing minute or so, he kept the kunai positioned steadily above the redhead's heart as he contemplated the implications. Finally he sighed and tossed the weapon aside, watching it sink into the water's depths with a stoic expression on his face. "It would be a waste of manpower to kill you," he growled. "If Deidara ran into Orochimaru..." his voice trailed off, as any words that came next were already racing through both men's minds. When he released Sasori's wrists, his hand was shaking slightly.

"Damnit," Sasori muttered, heaving himself to a sitting position. "One instant I see my life flash before my eyes and the next I'm worrying about Deidara. I don't even get a second to feel relieved..."

Kisame stiffly stood up, wincing as he did so. "Nor do you have a second to rest," he growled. "Let's go!" He roughly grabbed the puppetmaster by the arm, nearly popping it out of its socket as he yanked him up to his feet. Sasori stumbled dizzily as he fought for balance and one of his feet slipped briefly under the water's surface. His chakra was so low it was nearly life-threatening.

"I need to restore my chakra," he said bitterly. "I can barely move."

Kisame cursed under his breath, then slung the redhead over his shoulder like a sack of grain and ran to the shore. After dumping him unceremoniously onto the sand next to his cloak, he gestured impatiently. "I'm almost out of chakra myself," he stated. "And I'm poisoned. So pull yourself together and man up! Every second counts!"

_So he's not immune,_ Sasori marveled. _How is he even standing right now? _ What he had thought was invincibility was apparently no more than a suicidal rage - if Kisame had gone through with the murder, he would have been sealing his own fate as well. None of the other Akatsuki members had a clue how to cure the poison. "Aren't you going to ask me for an antidote?" he growled as he pulled a pouch from his cloak.

"I've been told that you don't carry an antidote," Kisame bluntly replied. "I also know this poison's not fatal for three days. That gives me more than enough time to save Deidara and get him to safety."

"How noble of you," Sasori muttered dryly. When he offered Kisame a food pill, the swordsman took it grudgingly and gave it a weird look before popping it in his mouth. It appeared to take him a fair amount of willpower to swallow it and even more to hold it down. Sasori couldn't hide his shock as the man sank to a crouch and clamped a hand over his mouth, his thin body convulsing as he violently gagged. When he finally pulled his hand away, his mouth and eyes were watering. "Stop staring at me," he heaved after spitting a few times. "I have stomach problems."

The redhead diverted his eyes as he opened his chest cavity and inserted a food pill into the mechanism that allowed his heart to recieve nutrients. "It's pointless to lie to me," he muttered under his breath. "I know your problem is because of-"

"Can it," Kisame snapped furiously, cutting him off. "Mention it to me just once and I _will _kill you!"

"Fine," Sasori sighed, fighting down an unwanted wave of dread at the thought of having to battle the swordsman a second time. _Just keep it bottled up inside and see how much sicker you get, _he thought crossly. _ Not that it matters... you'll die from the poison long before you starve because I have no intention of making you an antidote! _The thought of Kisame delerious with pain and begging pathetically for his life was so erotic it almost made the pupptmaster hard right then and there. He closed his chest cavity and struggled to his feet, feeling as sinister as he was exhausted. It took exactly one minute for his heart to consume the nutrients from the food pill and regain its chakra - regrettably, he hadn't devised a way to make it go any faster. In this aspect, the human body was actually superior. Kisame was currently displaying said superiority by finally allowing Samehada to heal the gash on his shoulder, betraying no sign of pain as he passively watched the deep wound close up.

"You ready?" the swordsman asked. A wince flashed over his features when he briskly stood up, conveying a muted degree of agony before vanishing. This was undoubtedly from the poison, which would have a normal person screaming and writhing on the ground by now.

"Well, my joints are going to start rusting when this saltwater dries," Sasori muttered bitterly. "But other than that, I-" He immediately closed his mouth and bristled when Kisame formed a quick handsign.

"Shut up and hold still," the swordsman growled. "Water prison jutsu!"

A second later, Sasori was submerged in a bubble of crushing, pressurized water that would most definitely be painful if he could feel it. Completely immobilized, he could do nothing but hate Kisame for being so damn pragmatic as the water rushed through even the tightest of his joints, rinsing out the salt. It was horribly intrusive, making him feel as though he was being raped. When the bubble finally burst, he had to resist the urge to slap the fucker in the face. Scowling, he shook out his sopping wet hair before grabbing his cloak and slinging it on. "Do that to me again and I swear, you'll be begging me for death!" he growled.

Kisame didn't even gratify the statement with a response; he merely shrugged then started running in the direction of the explosion.

_Goddamned bastard, _Sasori seethed as he grudgingly followed. _ I can't wait to watch you die!_

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Umm, this chapter's pretty short I guess... but that's because fight scenes take me friggin forever to write! However, I did have a lot of fun writing it, especially the part about Orochimaru, heheh. I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to make him sound as scary as I percieve him as. Did it work? There's a few sentences I'm not happy with so maybe I'll fix them if I can come up with something better. I'd appreciate any kind of constructive criticism you have to offer, as there's more fight scenes on the way and I want them to be epic! These next few chapters are like... the turning point in my story, sort of. My point is, I just want them to turn out really good so advice from my readers would be helpful. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it! 3


	14. Chapter 14

As Kisame ran toward where he had heard the explosion, the events of the past half hour replayed in his mind. He had known that fighting Sasori was a deathwish - the man's poison was practically a legend in the shinobi world. Unless the puppetmaster decided to make an antidote, there was absolutely no chance of survival. He'd been aware of this going in, yet it had still been disappointing to recieve that first poisonous cut. The senbon had barely grazed his arm, leaving a little trickle of blood in its wake; he had felt something akin to frustration in knowing his fate was sealed from such a miniscule wound. After that, he had simply given up on evading, allowing the redhead's array of poisoned weapons to hit him everywhere but his vital points. It had just ceased to matter anymore - whether he took in a drop or a gallon of the poison, the end result would be the same. Looking back on it, his decision to kill the redhead seemed brash and irresponsible. Which was better? Dealing with the truth of what had happened with Itachi or dying? The answer was vague and uncomfortable to focus on.

On the upside, dying this way was definitely better than freezing to death in a cave with the taste of Itachi's cum in his mouth... but not by much. He was already in excrutiating pain; it took a considerable amount of effort not to let it show. _ I won't give Sasori the satisfaction of watching me suffer, _he thought to himself. _ Although I can only imagine this is going to get more painful before it's over. _As for the redhead making him an antidote? The chances were slim to none. At least he had a few days before biting the dust - maybe even more, considering Samehada's healing ability. _ I just need enough time to get Deidara to safety, _he told himself yet again. He was fairly convinced that the blonde's opponent was Orochimaru and if his suspicions were correct, the sannin would no doubt leave his victim alive for study and interrogation. Considering the bastard's perverted nature, the 'study' part might turn into something far more insidious.

Kisame increased his pace, fighting down a wave of sheer panic.

X X X

Deidara's single chance at escaping had long past, when Orochimaru had summoned that giant snake. Manda was its name, apparently. Now he barely had time to counter, let alone get himself a safe distance away. The sannin's large array of projectiles, varying from vomited up blades to hoardes of snakes, kept him in a constant state of panicked evasion. And then there was Manda, who was as fast as he was enormous. Deidara had found himself a hairswidth away from the creature's vast jaws a number of times, barely managing to hurl himself out of harm's way before its mouth hungrily snapped shut. His bombs weren't very effective against the snake, either - its big scales were like plates of armor, protecting it from the impact of the blasts so that they were about as harmful as annoying beestings. Even Orochimaru had been hit a few times - the man simply shed his burnt skin, bursting through his own mouth in a disgusting puddle of viscous fluid. Every jutsu the sannin performed was utterly revolting. Immortality was a horrifying thing to witness, at least in this bastard's case.

When a snake suddenly shot from Orochimaru's arm and coiled tightly around Deidara's ankle, the blonde barely had time to form the words 'oh shit' before he was pulled from the safety of his bird and violently hurtled toward the earth. All he could do was brace himself as he shot through the forest canopy and slammed against the ground in a cloud of leaves and dust. The pain was excrutiating... for a second he could do nothing but lay there and gasp for air. When the dust settled, he blearily looked down at himself to find his leg bent at a nauseating angle, snapped in two at the shin. He could see the bones protuding under his pants and a wet sheen of blood was already soaking through the fabric. _I'm done for,_ he panicked, fighting the urge to vomit from the shock. He jammed his hand into a pouch of clay, his eyes darting around wildly as he formed another round of bombs.

"Throw those at me and I'll eat you alive," rumbled Manda's booming voice. The creature's head crashed down through the canopy, snapping branches left and right. It was indredulous that Manda was so big, only parts of his body were visible at one time under the tree cover. Stretched from snout to tail, the beast was undoubtedly over a mile long.

"You're not eating anyone, Manda." Orochimaru half-ran, half-slithered down from the snake's back, landing silently a few feet away from Deidara's bristling, broken form. Up close, he was even more terrifying - a monster in human form. "I want this one alive," he said. "He's Akatsuki, didn't you notice?"

"I couldn't care less what petty organization he comes from," Manda hissed. "Humans are no more than food!" He emphasized this statement by striking fitfully at Orochimaru, his enormous jaws snapping shut a hairswidth from the sannin's head. "One of these days..." he grumbled menacingly.

"Oh, hush," Orochimaru growled, undaunted. "I already told you, I'll feed you all the prisoners you can eat later. Don't be so impatient." He took a few more steps toward Deidara. "And as for you," he said with a grin. He looked as though he was going to finish the sentence when his head suddenly whipped toward the blonde via a revolting, distended neck. Deidara tried to throw the bombs clenched in his fist but his arm was pinned in the sannin's jaws before he could fling them away. He gasped, mortified, when he felt a pair of fangs puncture his skin - when the man drew his mouth away, a few drops of dark purple venom drizzled from the small wound.

"Get away from me," he panted, injuring his leg further as he tried to back away. A prickling, cold feeling was creeping up his arm, numbing the flesh in its wake; he felt an insane, animalistic urge to try and sever the limb before the poison could spread any further. When he tried to throw his handful of bombs, it was like throwing lead - they fell harmlessly from his weakening grip.

"Calm down," Orochimaru urged, his voice lowered in an attempt to sound soothing - the result was an oily tone that made the blonde want to wash his ears out with soap. "The venom's not fatal... I don't want you dying just yet."

Suddenly, Deidara wished he had just blown himself up while he'd had the chance. Dying was undoubtedly an ideal alternative to staying alive for whatever this man had in store for him. As the venom seeped through his body, numbing and blurring his senses, he was gripped by a fear so devastating that it brought tears to his eyes. He cursed feebly, glaring at Orochimaru's leering face until he could no longer hold his eyes open. His last thoughts before falling unconscious were of Kisame and Sasori... the names sounded distant in his mind, little more than dreams.

X X X

"Damnit," Sasori grated, "I think we missed the fight!" He was running as fast as he could to keep up with Kisame; it was ridiculous how fast the swordsman was, even with the poison in his veins. Tree limbs whipped by the two men and the passing scenery was little more than a blur.

"Come on," Kisame panted over his shoulder. "Can't you go any faster?"

A dry, sex-related response flickered over Sasori's tongue but he held it back... the situation was simply too dire for shit-talking. After the initial explosion, several more blasts had shaken the forest floor, accompanied by the sound of crashing tree limbs. The two had briefly scaled a tall oak to see if they could spot the fight - their eyes had been met with the writhing bulk of Manda, Orochimaru's familiar, flattening the landscape a few miles to the south. Their fears confirmed, they had proceeded to haul even more ass than before, going as fast as physically possible. Yet about a minute ago, the noise had suddenly stopped. After all the crashing and rumbling, the silence was shocking to their senses. It was obvious that the battle had come to an end, although it was impossible to tell who was the victor until they got there. They could only guess at the outcome... and neither man was optomistic. When Orochimaru summoned Manda, he meant business.

Minutes dragged by like hours as they continued to close in on the battleground, punctuated by nothing but that terrible silence. When they finally reached the area where the trees were splintered and felled from the fight, they were disappointed yet not entirely surprised to find no sign of human life. The wreckage spanned about a mile in diameter and a few small fires smouldered here and there from Deidara's bombs. Some of Manda's enormous scales were also scattered about, singed and blackened. _ At least the brat put up a good fight, _Sasori thought listlessly as he searched around for clues - footprints, shreds of clothing, anything that might lead them in the right direction. At least there didn't seem to be any evidence that the blonde had died, although the absence of a corpse didn't mean much when Orochimaru was involved. The sannin would likely take the blonde with him even if it was just to perform an autopsy.

Just when Sasori was sure every square inch of the area had been inspected, Kisame's voice called out to him from about a quarter mile away. He fought down a wave of dread as he followed the voice to its source. Kisame was kneeling over a patch of dirt, his muscles tense.

"Look at this," the swordsman growled. Sasori came in closer and knelt down at the man's side, following his gaze. There amidst the upturned earth lay a handful of little white bombs, half-molded into the shapes of spiders. The dirt itself was indented with the distinct imprint of a human body - evidence of a painful impact.

"So Deidara crash-landed here," Sasori murmured. "How badly do you think he was injured?"

Kisame cursed under his breath and shot the redhead a dark glare. "Don't tell me you gave up your sense of smell to live in that stupid body, too?" he snarled. "The scent of blood here is _unmistakeable_."

It took Sasori a lot of willpower to let the swordsman's remark slide - he had to remind himself that he'd be rewarded later, when the bastard was incapacitated from the poison. "Well, if you can smell it, can't you follow the scent to where he is?" he asked.

Kisame shook his head. "My sense of smell's nothing special," he sighed. "I can only detect this because there's a fuckin' _ton _of it." He reached down and took a little handful of dirt, rubbing it between his fingers. "Dirt's still wet with it," he growled. "But I looked for a trail and couldn't find shit. Orochimaru must have stopped the bleeding before taking off."

Sasori ran a hand through his hair, his patience growing thin. "Then why the hell did you bother showing me?" he hissed. "To piss me off?"

"Damnit, man," Kisame grated as he rose stiffly to his feet. "I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something! I found the spot where Deidara lost the battle... now you figure out what happened next, for crying out loud!"

The redhead closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, almost feeling the throb of a frustrated headache. If Kisame was at a dead-end with his superior senses, what was left to do? "I'm assuming you looked around for footprints," he muttered under his breath, feeling idiotic just for saying it.

"Obviously," Kisame bluntly replied. "Orochimaru probably went up through the trees... but they're too torn up from the battle to tell us anything. I suppose we could search the perimeter of the damaged area-"

"That would take hours," Sasori hissed, cutting the swordsman off. "It would be _dark _by the time we finished!" _Goddamnit, that's an idiotic idea,_ he thought to himself. _ Has Kisame ever had to track *anything* in his life?_ Yet the redhead wasn't exactly coming up with anything better himself. He just needed time to think! There had to be a solution, somehow.

When he finally opened his eyes again, he caught a glimpse of Kisame wincing and nearly doubled over in pain from the poison. A few wonderful seconds passed where the swordsman was too lost in agony to notice the redhead's gaze - the poor fucker looked like he was going to vomit and his arms were crossed tightly over his midsection as if he was afraid his guts might spontaneously spill out. When he noticed he was being watched, he scowled furiously and quickly straightened himself, forcing his arms to hang at his sides.

"Stomach problems again?" Sasori sneered. He was glad he was still kneeling because he was pretty sure he had an erection.

"Why are you asking me that?" Kisame growled, shooting the redhead a wary look. "You know it's from the poison."

The redhead shrugged as he thought up a lie. "It's hard to tell with you," he finally replied. "Either way, there's no time to make you an antidote right now." He tried to emphasize the words 'right now' as if to imply he was going to do it eventually - false hope was just as torturous as physical pain.

Kisame rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath. "Don't bother screwing with my head," he said bitterly. "I know you're not going to cure me. Now knock it off and try to think up a solution to this dead-end!" There was no flicker of hope in his eyes, no weakening of will at the prospect of being healed. The lack of a reaction was slightly disappointing.

Sasori sighed and diverted his eyes, his erection dwindling. Apparently, Kisame was better at reading into people than he'd originally thought. _He must know I'm getting a kick out of watching him suffer, _he brooded. _ That sucks! Toward the end, he's probably gonna try to crawl off and die alone like the dumb animal he is. _

"Nevermind," Kisame said, snapping the redhead out of his sadistic thoughts. "I might have just figured out a solution, no thanks to _you_."

"Oh, really?" Sasori replied sarcastically. "Please do tell." It was probably going to be another stupid idea - searching the trees for shoe scuffs or something.

"Well, we're close to the five-mile radius limiting Deidara's search area," the swordsman said. "And also, he was gone almost forty-five minutes before the first explosion we heard. Considering the time and distance, he was probably toward the end of his search - he scans areas in wider and wider circles, like a spiral, and he said himself it wouldn't take him an hour. What I'm trying to say is, the hideout's either in this viscinity or it's completely underground. Or both, even. We're less than a mile from the ocean and there's a good chance Orochimaru's using some sort of hydroelectric power to fuel his experiments. We could be standing on the damn place!"

Sasori opened his mouth then shut it, as there was no snide remark to say. Kisame's revelation was damn intellegent - the more the redhead thought about it, the more sense it made. "That would explain the battle," he muttered under his breath. "Orochimaru was probably just outside catching a breath of fresh air before returning to his... _studies_..."

Kisame shifted Samehada on his back, an edgy expression on his face. "Then again, I could be completely wrong," he said curtly. "Regardless, let's go to the coast... maybe we'll find something."

"Yah, fine," Sasori sighed as he rose to his feet. By the time he had straightened his cloak, Kisame was already far ahead, setting yet another breakneck pace. _Dumb animal indeed,_ he thought bitterly. The fact that he'd just been outsmarted by the swordsman both riled him and frightened him. Brawn _and _brains? It seemed unfair that the motherfucker had both.

X X X

Deidara awoke slowly, as if being roused from a coma. His body felt like a lump of lead and his thoughts wouldn't condense in his mind. Where was he? How did he get here? He would have asked himself these questions if he had the mental capacity. As it was, he was barely able to cling onto consciousness. All he could do was lay there in a sort of physical purgatory, too numb to even open his eyes. Even sound was distorted - he heard fragments of conversation yet it all jumbled into utter jibberish in his mind, beyond his comprehension. An eternity seemed to pass before the words being spoken around him began to make sense.

"... The bones are fractured in a few different spots... will take some time to heal even with the medical jutsu..." This voice didn't belong to Orochimaru - it was softer, more passive. Menacing in its own way.

"... Don't want him walking around anyway... seems like an escape artist..." Here was Orochimaru's voice - rough yet lilting at the same time, dangerous even when lowered.

"... No significant injuries other then that... antidote's working successfully..."

"... Checked those mouths of his for clay? Don't want him blowing this place to bits..."

And then the sensation of touch began to return to him. He could feel fingers probing the mouths on his hands, slipping in and searching around the small cavities in his palms. He wanted to bite down but he couldn't - the venom still had him completely paralyzed. The feel of being invaded this way was uncomfortable and humiliating; he inwardly sighed with relief when it was finally over. Seconds later, the relief was replaced with horror when those same fingers, wet with his saliva, slid into the mouth on his chest. _They took out the stitches, _he realized, cold with panic. Unlike his hands, the cavity in his chest needed to remain closed up - it was dangerously close to his heart and lungs, fatal if left open for too long. After an agonizing second or two of being violated in his most vulnerable spot, the fingers finally withdrew.

"No clay," stated the unfamiliar voice. "And he'll die if we leave this open."

"Well then... sew it back up, Kabuto. Obviously, I don't want him dead."

"And when I'm done?"

"Give him something for the pain and put him in cell number eight. I'll interrogate him when he comes to." There was a light sound of footsteps, followed by the creak and slam of a door being closed. Apparently, Orochimaru had more important things to do at the moment.

Now that the conversation was over, background noises reached Deidara's ears - the beep of a heart monitor, the hum of something mechanical, metalic ticks and groans. The question 'where am i' finally reached a conclusion in his mind... it was painfully clear he was in Orochimaru's hideout, wherever _that _was. Underground? Up in a damn cloud?

"I see you're regaining consciousness," the unfamiliar voice stated, breaking his disjointed train of thought. "So I suppose I should tell you, you're about to feel a slight prick..."

_A slight prick, _he mused deleriously. A million sex-related jokes fluttered through his mind but vanished when the man - Kabuto, was it? - proceeded to sew up the mouth on his chest with unceremonious efficiency. Every stab from the needle was followed by a brisk, painful tug of the thread and by the time it was over, Deidara had a feeling the fucker hadn't bothered to go through any of the holes that were already there. The procedure ended with one last sharp tug as Kabuto tied a quick knot and severed the thread.

"Now one more in your arm," he said. His voice was neither cruel nor kind, akin to the way all medics talked to their patients. He had that way of saying 'this is going to hurt' without conveying any emotion whatsoever - no sadistic implication, no hint of an apology. As if prepping a victim for torture and interrogation was as mundane as eating breakfast.

This 'slight prick,' as Kabuto had so eloquently phrased it, was less painful and over in a heartbeat. Seconds later, Deidara felt a pleasant warmth prickle through his body, making him feel lightheaded and oddly content. Considering his dire situation, this was a bizarre contentment indeed. Yet real, nonetheless - remaining conscious suddenly seemed like a chore, not worth the effort. Where he had fought the cold numbness of Orochimaru's venom earlier, he now welcomed this new toxin as it lulled him to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

"Good job, Kisame. You've succeeded in wasting an hour of our time." Sasori's voice sounded both bitter and oddly triumphant, as if relishing in Kisame's epic failure somehow made up for the severity of the situation.

"Just shut up, Sasori," the swordsman sighed, wearily slumping to a crouch. The poison was getting worse and worse, making him feel as though he was being stabbed by a thousand little needles; he was beginning to reconsider his previous conclusion that this was better than freezing to death. At least hypothermia had numbed his body and mind - now, he was painfully aware of everything, from his dying, poisoned body to his failure in finding Orochimaru's hideout. The two had meticulously scanned the coast for signs of anything suspicious and had found absolutely nothing. It was strange, too - the coastline here was a perfect place for a laboratory. The land had risen up to a cliff, which fell sharply down to the ocean. The rocky cliff face could easily contain a large structure - it was at least a hundred meter drop - and the jagged shelves of sandstone would naturally conceal a discreet entrance.

The location was perfect but nothing was here. It was _maddening_. Kisame rubbed his temples, staring blandly out to sea as he tried to cope with the mental and physical distress festering within him. He was having to fight tooth and nail with the urge to hide somewhere secluded and let the poison finish him off in peace. When Samehada tentatively twined its hilt around his arm to give him more stamina, (it kept instinctively healing him, thinking the poison was an injury) it took him a fair amount of willpower not to pull his arm from its grasp.

"Well, maybe the intel we recieved was wrong," Sasori said. Kisame looked over to find the redhead kneeling at his side, looking out to sea. "It wouldn't be the first time Pain screwed up on his information."

Kisame cursed under his breath, embarrassed. "Don't give me that," he muttered. "You know the hideout's nearby. I don't need to be comforted like some... _whiny kid_."

Sasori rolled his eyes. "Fine, just be an asshole, then," he growled.

For a while, both men just stared out at the ocean, watching the waves crash against the cliff. If the battleground had been a dead-end, this uninhabited coastline was a... _disaster_. Where could they look next? The ten mile-wide search area was far too big a space to inspect on foot. And every second that passed, the chances Deidara was being subjected to something terrible became more and more likely. Kisame was so close to panic that he felt a tightness in his chest, an overwhelming sense of utter helplessness. Like the poison, it was becoming worse with the inevitable passage of time.

"This may be a stupid idea," Sasori murmured, temporarily snapping Kisame out of his panic, "but we didn't bother to check underwater."

"Underwater?" Kisame echoed.

"Yeah..." Sasori said. "Like you said, this location is ideal. Orochimaru would be an idiot not to utilize it. Maybe he went one step further than hiding underground this time... he's always inventing new technologies and shit."

Kisame clicked his tongue in response. The idea sounded ludicrous - was it even _possible _to build a structure underwater? Yet as Sasori had said, Orochimaru was a genius when it came to achieving impossible feats. He forced himself to stand up, trying hard not to cry out from the pain. "I'll go take a look," he stated.

Sasori eyed him passively. "Why, cuz you look like a shark?" he asked. "Those gill marks of yours don't actually work." He began to rise to his feet but quickly sank back down to a crouch when Kisame shot him a threatening glare.

"Don't take this as an insult," the swordsman growled, "But you'll only slow me down." Before Sasori could argue, he turned and jumped down from the cliff. He was in freefall for four or five long seconds before landing nimbly on the water's surface, catching his impact on the descending crest of a wave. To any other shinobi, such a fall would be dangerous... but Kisame had grown so accustomed to the nature and flow of water that he felt safer amidst it than on land. 'Sea legs' would be a vast understatement.

The pain of the poison ebbed slightly as he skirted past the violent breaking point of the waves - the actions distracted him and reminded him, pleasantly, of his training back in Kirigakure. Fuguki used to take him out to the coast and spar with him at sea, forcing him to become accustomed to the rise and fall of the waves until the motions were as predictable as his own breathing. Eventually, he even surpassed Fuguki in this ability - paired with his powerful suiton, he became one with the water, working with it rather than against it. Honestly, he was surprised that Sasori had lasted so long against him earlier... when Kisame had the ocean to his advantage, most shinobi were turned into fish food within the first five minutes.

Once he was far enough out, he unholstered Samehada and began to merge with it. The sensation was strange yet not exactly uncomfortable as the creature eagerly wrapped its tail around his arm and melded its spines with his flesh - it was something that felt oddly natural to him, even though he'd only done it a handful of times. He glanced up at Sasori before the transformation was complete, catching a glimpse of the redhead's mouth forming a perfect 'O' of surprise as he elusively sunk down into the water.

X X X

When Deidara awoke this time around, there was nothing gradual about the process. He was choking, his lungs felt like they were on fire, and something was covering his mouth. His eyes snapped open to find Orochimaru's face right in front of his and it took him a second to realize that it was the sannin's mouth covering his own. Horrified, he shouted a stream of curses, muffled at first than obscenely loud as Orochimaru quickly pulled away. The look on the man's face was somewhere between horny and outraged - he hissed a curse of his own before drawing back his hand and briskly slapping the blonde across the face.

"Idiot," the sannin snapped. "I'm surrounded by idiots! You were given too much painkiller and you overdosed! I was giving you CPR!" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, scowling.

"Bullshit," Deidara rasped. "Perverted old man!" A trickle of blood spilled out the side of his mouth as he spoke and when he tried to wipe it away, he found that his hands were in cuffs, secured to the wall behind his head. He also noticed that he was clothed in a drab V-neck shirt and shorts that resembled prison garb. _This asshole changed my clothes while I was out, too? _he wondered hysterically. _Shit, did he already rape me?!_ His ass didn't hurt but then again, neither did his broken leg.

"Alive," Orochimaru growled as he rose to his feet. "I told you I wanted him _alive!_" He turned and kicked something that was curled in a corner - Deidara focused on the thing to realize it was a man, thoroughly pummeled with a pair of shattered glasses sitting crookedly on his bloodied nose.

"I'm sorry, Master," the man croaked. "I'm still doing guesswork on the dosage... it's not in its final stages yet..." The man's voice was familiar - even hoarse and distressed, it still had that complacent, cool tone of a seasoned medic. _So that's Kabuto, _Deidara deduced. _Damn, he looks like a total dweeb!_

"If the drug is experimental and dangerous, why'd you use it on someone I need alive?" Orochimaru hissed. Kabuto opened his mouth as if to respond but the sannin kicked him in the gut before he could speak. "You're useless," Orochimaru growled. "Now get out of my sight and heal yourself up. Thanks to you, my _vessel _is also sick. Go give him something for his pain... something that won't make him overdose!"

Kabuto rasped a 'yes, Master,' then literally crawled out of the room, too injured to get to his feet. Deidara would have felt bad for the nerd if he wasn't so worried about himself - the fact that he was so adamantly being kept alive was an omen for terrible things to come. Even the room he was in was ominous... the floor was a cold cement and the walls and ceiling looked like they were composed of heavy, reinforced steel. The lighting came from a flickering flourescant tube that ran along the ceiling amidst a tangle of pipes and wires - everything about this place was cold and briskly efficient, a combination of a prison and a laboratory. And over it all was a thick, penetrating dampness; beads of moisture dotted the pipes on the ceiling and dripped down the walls. It was as if the room was perspiring. Considering how dry the weather had been outside, this was a bizarre occurence.

"Sorry about Kabuto," Orochimaru said, snapping Deidara out of his thoughts. "He probably _was _trying to kill you. He hates the Akatsuki even more than I do, you see..." The sannin was facing him with his arms crossed, a small, mysterious grin curving his thin lips.

"You're the one who should be apologizing," Deidara snarled. "Kissing me in my sleep! You probably slipped me some tongue while you were at it!"

Orochimaru's smirk widened. "If I was 'slipping you some tongue,' you'd know it," he mused. He emphasized the statement by lewdly sticking his tongue out and flicking it like a snake's - it was absurdly long and looked as though it could strangle someone's neck.

"That's disgusting," Deidara muttered, diverting his eyes. It took him all the willpower he possessed not to shudder with revulsion.

"Says the man with tongues in his hands and chest," Orochimaru lightly replied, undaunted. Deidara had a feeling the sannin was used to people calling him 'disgusting,' seeing it more as a weird compliment than an insult. "And by the way, I know all about your kinjutsu," he continued. "Forbidden for both its destructive power and its... _appearance_. I hear the transformation is quite painful."

Deidara shrugged, as much as his binds would allow. "It was worth it," he stated. The transformation actually _had _been painful - and surprising. He'd stolen the scroll and utilized it before reading it all the way through, afraid that he'd be caught if he hesitated too long. The mouths had immediately formed under his skin and chewed their way to the surface in a spray of blood and torn flesh, leaving him pale with shock and wondering what the fuck he had just done to himself. All he'd known about the kinjutsu was that it would enable him to meld explosive clay with his chakra, creating a powerful, incredible art. That part had become true... but the mouths? He hadn't expected that part, at all. And the fact that Iwa shinobi used to call him 'mouthy' for his sharp tongue only added to the stupid irony.

"If I didn't already have an ideal vessel in stock, I'd consider using you," Orochimaru said, crouching down in front of the blonde. "Although explosions aren't really my style. They're too crude."

Deidara laughed genuinely. "Like barfing up snakes and shedding your skin is artistic?" he mused. "Your jutsu is... _embarrassingly _repulsive. No wonder you have such a reputation - shinobi are probably too grossed out by you to fight properly!"

"Is that why you lost?" Orochimaru snapped, finally becoming irritated by the insults.

"Honestly, it _was _part of the reason," Deidara confessed. "I was trying not to vomit the whole time. Shit, I still wanna vomit! So back off a little, will you?" While pissing Orochimaru off probably wasn't the best idea in his current situation, he didn't really know what else to do. He was scared shitless and the only way he knew how to hide it was to act like an asshole. Maybe the sannin would get mad enough to kill him and spare him the misery of further interrogation.

"You have a foul mouth," Orochimaru hissed. "I'm surprised Sasori hasn't killed you yet."

_Shit, so he already knows I'm Sasori's partner, _Deidara thought. He briefly considered trying to deny the fact but judging by the sannin's blunt expression, it wasn't a trick. He shrugged. "Yah, Sasori can't stand me," he said. "He's probably gloating that I got captured right now so he can find himself a better partner."

"I wouldn't doubt it," Orochimaru replied. "And either way, Sasori's no threat to me in this location. I'm more worried about... _other _members coming for you."

_No threat in this location? _Deidara wondered. _What's that supposed to mean? _"Well, it's just the two of us out here, so I guess I'm screwed," he stated. _Now's the time to start lying, _he told himself. He was a damn good liar, too... but he wasn't sure if it would hold up under this man's experience.

"This isn't the first time I've been marauded by nosy Akatsuki members," Orochimaru said, his eyes fixed on the blonde's. "Every time I build a lab, Pain sends out a squad to investigate. You're new in the organization so perhaps you're unaware of all the _trouble _it causes me."

"You don't think it's troublesome for me, too?" Deidara growled. "I didn't want to go on this shitty mission and neither did Sasori! But orders are orders..."

"Yes, yes," Orochimaru snapped, impatient. "Now tell me who was teamed with you before I force it out of you! I know you were sent as part of a four-man squad so lying to me is useless!"

_Hmm, he really doesn't know, then, _Deidara realized. _ If he knew, he wouldn't have said 'four'. _"You're right," he said. "That's normally the case. We were supposed to be teamed up with Kisame and Itachi but the assholes never showed up. So we had to continue by ourselves."

"Bullshit," the sannin hissed. He reached out and grazed his fingers over the blonde's neck, finally succeeding in making him shudder with revulsion. "I saw this bite mark on your neck," he said. "If you're screwing Kisame, there's no doubt that sharky bastard is coming to look for you. And as much as I'd love to capture him and do some research on him, it's far more likely he'll end up _ruining _this lab."

_Stupid bite mark, _Deidara seethed. _ I can't believe he noticed! _The scabs were long-gone but there was still a little ring of marks where the healed flesh was slightly lighter. To the untrained eye, it didn't even look like a bite mark anymore. But Orochimaru and Kabuto were obviously far from untrained when it came to noticing physical abberations. "I'm not screwing Kisame," he finally replied, making sure not to let his eyes waver. "The asshole tried to rape me about a month ago! Haven't seen him since!" The lie made him feel sick with shame but it was the only thing he could think of to say.

"Kisame tried to rape you?" Orochimaru echoed. "That's hard to believe. First of all, he's too damn moral to force himself on anyone. Second, if he did, there would be no trying. He would have overpowered you without breaking a sweat."

_True, true,_ Deidara thought to himself, his mind racing. "Yah, but Itachi busted him in the act," he said. "Then I crawled off while they were arguing. I think that's why they didn't show up for the mission." _There,_ he brooded. _That's believable, isn't it?_

Orochimaru clicked his tongue, his eyes narrowed. "That's quite a story," he mused. "But you are... _pretty_. I can see how you'd cause some conflict." His fingers were still on the blonde's neck, grazing the bite mark. Deidara finally averted his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. He half-believed that the sannin had actually been trying to revive him with CPR earlier, although he had a sinking feeling that either way, the man intended to rape him at some point. If he hadn't already.

"I told you what you wanted to know," he muttered. "Now leave me the hell alone."

Orochimaru's fingers encircled his neck and tightened slightly, making it uncomfortable to breathe. "You haven't begun to tell me anything," he hissed. "And I have a feeling you won't, even if you're tortured. So I have something else in store for you." With that said, he promptly released his grip and rose to his feet. When he went to leave, he shot the blonde one last glare before shutting the steel door firmly behind him - in the glare had been a vague annoyance and also, unmistakeably, lust.

Deidara's face felt hot and his neck felt cold where the sannin had touched him. He cursed miserably and hung his head, dreading whatever was to come next.

X X X

Searching the depths of the ocean wasn't any easier or quicker than searching the land. The water was deep as fuck almost immediately, the earth dropping down to insane depths less than a mile off the coast to the point where everything was dark and uncomfortably pressurized. Kisame swam around fretfully for a while before summoning a handful of dopplegangers to help with the search. His doppleganger jutsu was nothing compared to Konoha's shadow clone kinjutsu - he could only make five or six that could fully function. Any more and he couldn't control them... they'd end up just floating around like dumb dolls until they turned back into water. With the poison affecting him, he was surprised that he could even manage the six he'd summoned. Willpower was an amazing thing, at times.

With the aid of the dopplegangers, the search went more quickly. Within the next half hour, he'd managed to scan a five or six mile area. He hadn't found anything himself, but he hoped that when he released the jutsu, one of his doubles would come back with something useful. He made a handsign and closed his eyes, letting their collective experience flow into his mind. Some of them saw a few fish, one saw nothing at all, but amidst the useless flashes was something... _abnormal_. A few miles to the south, the clone had spotted what looked like a sheen of metal, clinging to the ground. The dumb double hadn't investigated much further, leaving the object to be anything from a shipwreck to a shiny rock. Either way, it was the only thing of interest he'd managed to discover so he headed toward it, using the water's currents to swim as quickly as possible.

His eyes widened as he approached the object. His clone must have only caught a shitty little glimpse because this monstrosity of metal and concrete was unmistakeably a structure. Pipes ran like veins along the building's roof and the place emitted a warmth and a hum of machinery. He swam in closer, his nerves prickling, and what had seemed like a weird glow turned out to be small, circular windows in the building's walls. When he dared a quick glance into one of the windows, he saw a dull cell, filled to the brim with disoriented, emaciated prisoners, either pacing around listlessly or huddled into fetal positions. They all had a strange, sickly look to them that reminded him of seasickness.

This was obviously Orochimaru's hideout. There was no question in Kisame's mind. How the building had been constructed and why it was so deep underwater was a mystery that seemed irrelevant at the moment. He glimpsed in another window to find a shitty looking kitchen - a cook in the same grey prison garb was slaving over some pots of gruel. Yet another window revealed a shower room, and another revealed a large hulk of machinery - no doubt a hydroelectric power generator and a desalinizer. More and more windows told their story: here was a prisoner who looked like his flesh was made out of jelly, here was a pile of water, guts and bones, here was someone hooked up to IVs and monitors, vomiting a clear liquid into a trash can next to his bed. All of these people were no more than experiments to Orochimaru, victims of his incessant goal to forcefully instill jutsu through science.

_He's researching suiton,_ Kisame realized with a pang of mingled rage and terror. This wasn't his first time seeing one of Orochimaru's labs - he'd seen one where futon was the subject of study and the ward full of burn victims had been just as gruesome. However, suiton hit home a lot more... this was a gift native to the Land of Water and it riled him to see it forced upon these people. One's innate ability was not something to be dissected and degraded in this way. He had to resist the urge to release a Daikodan no Jutsu on this horrible place and put all its prisoners out of their misery. The only thing preventing him was the fact that Deidara was undoubtedly enclosed within its walls.

He inspected all the windows but found no trace of the blonde. Yet upon searching some more, he finally found a way in. Beneath the machinery that fueled the place was a small round hole in the hulking metal, where the water sat like a pool in the bottom of the room. He took a quick peek inside, barely letting his eyes break the surface of the water, and caught a glimpse of his surroundings. Past pipes and pistons, gears and engines, there was a door. And no guards, to boot. _Orochimaru got cocky building this place, _he thought to himself. _Didn't think anyone would find it. _While he wanted to charge in blindly, wrecking shit until he found Deidara, he forced himself to withdraw. Sasori knew Orochimaru better than anyone else - the redhead would likely be able to devise a more sensible plan.

X X X

Sasori had been counting the minutes since Kisame had slipped beneath the water's surface, waiting with baited breath for his return. His eyes were still wide with latent shock from seeing the swordsman's bizarre transformation - even a hundred meters away, he had witnessed the man merge with his sword, spines rippling over his skin. And when Kisame had sunk into the water, Sasori could have sworn he'd seen the flicker of a long, slate-blue tail. _ All these jokes about his appearance, _he marveled, _and he really is part fish! _He wasn't sure whether the revelation repulsed him or aroused him - in Kisame's case, everything was baffling.

Over an hour had passed before the swordsman finally returned, peeking his head out a bit before climbing nimbly to the water's rolling surface. He was human again, Samehada strapped to his back like it was no more than a weapon. Sasori wanted to shout down an inquiry at the top of his voice but closed his mouth when Kisame shot up the cliff face, scaling the rock in a few short seconds. He landed at Sasori's side, his blue skin wet and glistening, reflecting the mid-day sunlight. The redhead wanted to reach out and touch it, even though he could no longer feel. He resisted the urge, instead mustering an impatient scowl.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he growled, trying to sound as pissed off as possible.

Kisame ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily. "I found it," he rasped. "I found the hideout." He pointed vaguely out to sea, his arm trembling with exhaustion.

As much as Sasori wanted to revel in Kisame's agony, there just wasn't time. He quickly summoned a blank scroll and pulled a pen from his coat pocket. "Draw me the schematics," he demanded.

Kisame took the pen reluctantly, his expression somewhere between the extremes of exhaustion and determination. "I'm a shitty artist," he mumbled.

"I don't give a shit," Sasori snapped. "Draw out a layout and I'll figure out the rest."

"Fine," Kisame breathed. He bent down and began to draw the schematics onto the scroll, his motions quick yet refined. Sasori could do nothing but stare, slackjawed, as the swordsman efficiently sketched out the details of the structure. The resulting piece could have been hung up in an art museum - the lines were all perfect, as were the the details revealed in every windowed room. Prisoners howled in agony, machinery hummed, failed experiments lay dying. At the top of the sketch, Kisame had written in inconguously sloppy kanji, 'suiton lab.'

"Kisame, why the hell aren't you an artist?" Sasori murmured, his eyes fixated on the scroll. When he finally looked away from the masterpiece, he found the swordsman curled into a fetal position, finally rendered unconscious from the poison.


	16. Chapter 16

For a minute, Sasori could do nothing but stare dumbly at Kisame's unconscious form, feeling something in between lust and, unfortunately, empathy. The poor bastard must have been running on adrenaline alone, pressing onward even though his body was screaming for him to stop. _Such determination,_ the redhead marveled. _And it's all for Deidara! _The realization was a bit maddening - why'd the swordsman have to be so damn noble? It made him feel wretched and weak in comparison.

Regardless, now wasn't the time to be sitting around feeling bitter. He pulled a pouch from his cloak and emptied its contents into his hand. He had a few spiced up food pills that he kept around incase he accidentally poisoned Deidara and couldn't make him an antidote right away; the pills contained some questionable ingredients, including a strong painkiller and a not-quite-legal stimulant. When he'd given just half of one to the blonde as an experiment, it had made the brat bounce off the walls, jabbering feverishly about the meaning of life (which was a 'bang,' apparently). It had been... _ridiculous_. But Kisame was a lot bigger, plus he was actually poisoned. If Sasori was correct, the pill would just return him to normal, at least for a few hours. An antidote would take him at least an hour to prepare - he'd actually consider mixing one up if there was time. But time was of the essence so pumping Kisame full of opiates and stimulants was the only feasible option.

He tried to wake the swordsman up, calling out his name and poking him in the shoulder. Unfortunately, his efforts got him little more than a twitch and a weak growl - Kisame was simply too far gone. At this point, he'd probably lay there until he died. Even Samehada was trying to help, doggedly giving the man its chakra; it obviously didn't know what else to do. The poor thing was clearly upset, whimpering pathetically with frustration, but when Sasori tried to give it a consoling pat, it bristled fiercely and growled.

Sasori clicked his tongue, miffed. "Stab me all you want," he said. "I won't feel a thing." And stab, it did. When Sasori tried to unholster it from Kisame's back to get it out of the way, it struggled so fiercely that it scratched up its master's skin before he finally subdued it, wrapping it up with the cord in his stomach cavity. "Sorry," he muttered at the furious creature. "But you're not helping, at all." Samehada's response was another enraged snarl - its tiny brain could only comprehend that Kisame was hurt and needed to be protected. The sentiment would have been endearing if it wasn't so damn stupid.

With Samehada out of the way, Sasori scooted closer to Kisame and rolled him onto his back. If the swordsman wasn't going to wake up, he had no choice but to literally shove the pill down his throat. This was one of those cases where having something in IV form would make his life a lot easier. Pricking Kisame in the arm would be a nice alternative to prying his jaws open, which were currently clamped shut tight as a vice. Honestly, such a seemingly straightforward task became increasingly complex the more he thought about it. _Kisame's not going to comply, even in his sleep, _he brooded. _He's probably going to struggle like mad! And he's crazy fucking strong!_

He pulled out a scroll and quickly unraveled it, summoning a 'black ant' style puppet that he occasionally used to restrain shinobi. Unlike his old puppet corps model, this one had an interior made of reinforced steel. When he hurled a furious Samehada into its chest cavity and sealed it inside, the puppet rocked violently back and forth but didn't break. Now that his cord was free, he wrapped it around Kisame several times until his arms and legs were pinned. The swordsman slurred something incoherent and violently strained against the binds, banging the side of his head against a boulder in the process. When he finally stopped, there was a wet splatter of blood on the boulder.

"You're just as idiotic as Samehada!" Sasori growled, knowing full well the insult fell on deaf ears. "Dumb animal," he added under his breath, just for the hell of it. If he couldn't berate Kisame while he was awake, he might as well get it out of his system without the reprocussions of getting his ass kicked. And even though the swordsman far from stupid - an artist, to boot! - Sasori couldn't shake the concept that he was restraining an exotic creature, something that swam elusively in the depths of uncharted waters. Hairless, blue skin that shimmered when wet, dark-rimmed, predatory eyes, gills that actually allowed him to breath water... Sasori couldn't help but wonder where the hell this man originated from! Had there been a clan of such people? Or was he just a fantastic abnormality, a crazy combination of genetic material?

_No wonder Orochimaru's so obsessed with him, _he brooded. _There's no one else like him! No one alive, that is. _One of the few things Kisame divulged to his fellow Akatsuki was that he had no family - he stated it as a blunt, uninteresting truth, something not even worth keeping secret. But didn't he ever wonder? Orochimaru certainly did... the sannin hadn't minced around the topic at all, clearly stating his desire to study Kisame. He'd even approached the swordsman on the matter, asking for just a few days of his time. The result had been a short fight that had ended with both men injured - Kisame from poison, Orochimaru from several bone-breaking punches that had taken a lot of skin-shedding to repair.

Another bout of struggling snapped Sasori from his thoughts - Kisame rasped something that sounded like 'kill me!' and his eyes fluttered open, revealing nothing but bloodshot white. This round was undoubtedly a seizure; Sasori barely had time to slip a loop of cord into the man's mouth before his jaws snapped shut with enough force to potentially sever his tongue. Insane strength combined with violent death throes forced the redhead to clamp Kisame's head between his legs to prevent the fucker from breaking his own neck. When the spasm finally ended, blood was everywhere, pouring down the side of the swordsman's face from gnawing the cord until his gums bled, dripping from several lacerations where he'd strained against his binds hard enough to break the skin, and leaking like a tear from his left eye. For a second, Sasori thought the man had burst a bloodvessel but found, upon closer inspection, that the tear of blood had actually come from the wound on the side of his head.

Despite all the violence Sasori had witnessed (and caused) in his lifetime, he found himself literally shaken, his limbs trembling slightly in an instinctive display of all-too-human shock. He'd always thought that seeing Kisame writhing in pain would be a turn-on... but the experience had ignited other weird emotions within him that he could have sworn he'd killed years ago. To sum it up, he'd felt a 'holy shit, don't die on me!' kind of panic, the sort of thing a shinobi would shout while clutching the hand of a mortally wounded comrade.

_For crying out loud, _he thought bitterly. _I'm losing my fucking mind. _ Before his thoughts could develop any further, he quickly removed the loop of cord from Kisame's slack jaws and shoved the pill down his throat, deriving only a little bit of perverse pleasure from the action. Nearly comatose from the seizure, the man swallowed it reflexively, his blank eyes finally drifting shut. It would take a few minutes for the drugs to take effect - in the meantime, Sasori retracted his cord yet didn't immediately move Kisame's head from his lap. For once, he wasn't being perverted... it was just kinda nice to watch the fucker sleep.

X X X

When Kisame awoke, the absence of pain was so shocking that he thought was dead. Yet when he opened his eyes and looked around, he found himself on the same cliff he'd passed out on - unless the afterlife was a parallel universe, he was still in the world of the living. He sat up and shook his head, thoroughly baffled.

"Feel any better?" Kisame turned to find Sasori glaring at him from a few yards away. The redhead was scowling and wiping down the cord in his stomach cavity... dark red blood was splotched on the rag he was using. When the swordsman looked down at himself, he realized that the blood was his - he was covered in weird scrapes that reminded him of ropeburn. "You had a damn seizure," the puppetmaster muttered. "I had to restrain you."

Kisame wanted to call bullshit but held his tongue. He'd heard that this poison could send people into crazy death throes that often resulted in broken bones and bitten-off tongues. If that's what had really happened, he was surprised Sasori had been able to hold him down - it must have taken a tremendous amount of effort. The sentiment wasn't egotistical... Kisame considered his insane strength to be both a blessing and a curse. When he was unconscious and someone was trying to help him, it was definitely a curse. He swore under his breath, embarrassed. _It's my fault I'm poisoned, _he brooded. _And now Sasori's having to *tend* to me._

His thoughts dispersed when a muffled, pathetic growl met his ears. He looked over to find a barrel-like puppet at his side, rocking fitfully back and forth. _ Goddamnit, _he seethed. _He had to restrain Samehada, too? _ Before he could tell the redhead to release the creature, the puppet briskly opened up. Samehada whined in confusion for a few more seconds before finding its way out and nuzzling up to his side. The poor thing looked exhausted.

"It hurt you more than it hurt me," Sasori growled, his attentions still focused on his cord. "Scratched the shit outta your back before I finally got it off you." He tossed a rag soaked in antiseptic at the swordsman. "Clean yourself up," he muttered. "You're covered in blood."

Kisame took the rag and proceeded to mechanically wipe the blood from his body. Samehada healed him as he did so, whining apologetically. The majority of blood was on his head - his hair was damp with it and it was crusted on the side of his face. _Fuckin' ridiculous, _he thought to himself. Yet even more ridiculous was the absence of pain; he felt nothing but a numb, almost pleasant tingle and there was a bitter, familiar taste in his mouth. "What did you give me?" he growled at Sasori. "Tastes like fuckin' coke."

Sasori looked shocked for a moment before replacing the expression with his usual scowl. "Yah, I gave you some cocaine to revive you," he replied under his breath. "Also morphine. And I can't help but wonder how in the hell you'd recognize it?"

A grin slid briefly over Kisame's lips. "My superior in Kiri was always doing coke," he confessed. "Got me to sample it a few times... but I never liked it." That last part was actually a lie - when he was banging Fuguki, the man would often lay out a few lines before they got to business. The drug amplified sex to a profound degree, especially when paired with copious amounts of sake. Thinking back on it, Kisame hadn't screwed Fuguki sober, not even once. And the cocaine had felt dangerously good. It was something he'd feared becoming addicted to, so he'd avoided it like the plague ever since. The last thing he needed on top of all his problems was a damn drug habit.

"Well you're not grinding your teeth or blathering about the meaning of life, so I'm assuming I gave you the right dosage," Sasori said. "I really hope I'm right because you're about to go back to that suiton lab and you won't survive a second if you're fuckin' _high_."

_Oh right,_ Kisame remembered, _ I still gotta rescue Deidara. _"Did you come up with a plan while I was passed out?" he asked the redhead. "Cuz I'll be pissed if you didn't."

"Shut up, Kisame," Sasori growled. "You're lucky to be alive right now." He reached for the schematics the swordsman had sketched out and motioned for him to come take a look. Kisame quickly complied, finding in the process that his muscles weren't protesting, at least for now. Sasori had filled in the blanks on his map with little scribbles and notes - the swordsman squinted his eyes as he read the small, nearly illegible kanji.

"This layout is like all Orochimaru's other labs," the redhead stated. "Behind the experimentation block is where he keeps the rest of his prisoners, likely including Deidara." He pointed at a space to the left of Kisame's rendition of the agonized suiton victims. "Since the lab is relatively small, there's probably only about eight or ten holding cells," he said.

"So I should go straight there and get Deidara?" Kisame inquired.

"Well..." Sasori murmured. "There's something else I should probably tell you." His finger moved down to a space next to the clump of machinery, where Kisame had found a way in. "I've been recieving my own intel from someone on the inside," he confessed. "And I have good reason to believe Orochimaru's found his next vessel. Apparently it's a boy from the Land of Fire, although that's all I know. Either way, he keeps the kid at his side at all times to ensure he stays alive until the transferrence ritual. If this is true, the vessel is likely being held here, near Orochimaru's private quarters."

"You've been holding information from the Akatsuki?" Kisame snarled. "That's traitorous."

"I'm telling you now, aren't I?" Sasori snapped, his eyes narrowed. "I have my own reasons for getting dirt on Orochimaru. Can't I have a personal life outside the organization?"

"Whatever," Kisame sighed. "I don't give a shit. Just tell me how this helps me."

Sasori looked at the swordsman like he was stupid. "The vessel, idiot," he growled. "That's the key to Orochimaru's immortality! If you find that kid and use him as a hostage, Orochimaru will probably just _give _you Deidara without a fight!"

"You sure about that?" Kisame muttered.

Sasori ran a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed. "I obviously don't want you to fail, asshole," he grated. "Everything I'm telling you is to ensure you get Deidara out of there alive. You already know I can't follow you in... so unfortunately, everything rides on you."

Kisame snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "Now you're just making me nervous. So let's assume I get that hostage and trade it for Deidara. Once the exchange is over, Orochimaru's not just going to let me escape! Even if he lets me out of the lab, there's no doubt he'll try to kill me the second I'm outside. What then?"

"Haul ass to the shore then let me handle the rest," Sasori stated. "The second you hit land, I'll have enough traps set up to blow this entire shore to bits. It'll give us a head-start, at least."

Kisame rose to his feet but Sasori shot him a dark glare. "Sit your ass back down," the redhead hissed. "I don't want there to be any faults in this mission. Let's work through all the details..."

X X X

Something akin to water torture was happening to Deidara. Unbeknownst to Orochimaru, the stupid roof had been dripping moisture right onto his forehead for the past half-hour, making him squint every ten seconds or so in expectation of another briny droplet. Annoying as it was, the briny part had solved the location's mystery for him - by some feat of technological prowess, Orochimaru had constructed a lab under the ocean's surface. How deep under and where in the ocean was still a mystery but nonetheless, the revelation was important. He'd immediately tried to call a meeting with the other Akatsuki members but when he'd tried, nothing had happened. The sannin had some sort of scramble set for telecommunication... as impossible as it sounded, it was reality. Being a former Akatsuki member, Orochimaru likely had spent a fair amount of effort studying then thwarting this technique.

When the door to his cell creaked open, he felt a mixture of relief and terror. Sitting alone with his thoughts was maddening, yet hanging out with Orochimaru wasn't much better. In fact, the sannin hadn't even begun to subject any kind of interrogation on him - he'd heard a lot of screaming and banging metal earlier, intoning some sort of experimental mishap. The ruckus had bought him some time... although he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. His chances of rescue were slim to none, especially since the location was underwater - Sasori avoided water like the plague and despite Kisame's sharky appearance, the gill marks didn't actually function. One thing he remembered about their fight back in the Land of Rivers was that the swordsman had been holding his breath during his water shockwave jutsu. In conclusion, all Deidara could do at this point was wish for death to come swiftly.

"How are you doing?" Orochimaru asked as he stepped inside the cell. Kabuto followed on his heels, his injuries healed and a new set of glasses perched on his nose. Being a wielder of medical jutsu certainly had its pros and cons - while the man was no longer wounded, he was now game for another fierce beating.

"How do you think I'm doing?" Deidara muttered. "My leg hurts like hell and your stupid ceiling is leaking. Let alone the fact that I'm being imprisoned by a lecherous old man." He was lying about his leg hurting - honestly, he just wanted Kabuto to dose him with more of that experimental painkiller. He'd much rather sink into a blissful overdose than die from whatever Orochimaru had planned.

"He's lying," Kabuto stated calmly, nudging his glasses with his forefinger. "There's no way he's in any pain right now."

"Asshole," Deidara barked. "I thought we were on the same side!"

A grin slid over Kabuto's lips. "Then you're an idiot," he lightly replied. "Although it would give me great satisfaction to watch you die."

"Enough," Orochimaru hissed. "Now give me that."

Kabuto was still grinning as he handed the sannin a syringe full of a yellowish liquid. "What the hell is that?" Deidara growled, his hands flexing in their cuffs.

Orochimaru flicked the syringe and crouched down at the blonde's side. "It's another experimental drug," he replied. "Kabuto and I have been working on a truth serum for quite some time now."

"_Years_," Kabuto adamantly cut in.

Annoyed, Orochimaru continued. "We haven't had much luck," he said. "Most people went insane when we administered it. But I modified the dosage and added a few other ingredients... so hopefully this time, I'll get a few confessions instead of the disasters that have preceded you."

"Seriously?" Deidara breathed, his heart pounding. "Come on, whaddya want to know? I'll tell you everything!"

"No you won't," the sannin snapped. "You've told me nothing but lies so far. Don't think I'm an idiot!" With that said, he plunged the needle into Deidara's shoulder. The blonde tried to struggle but Orochimaru grabbed his arm to hold him still as he pushed in the yellowish fluid. When the syringe was empty, he withdrew it with a blank expression on his face.

"What the hell!" Deidara grated. "That stuff looked like fuckin' _piss!_"

Kabuto laughed, his teeth flashing in a scythe-like grin. "Honestly, you'd be better off with piss," he mused. With that said, both men promptly left the room, leaving Deidara alone yet again. The blonde shivered and his skin prickled with dread. He had no idea what was in store for him this time around.

X X X

"So... where were we?" Kisame muttered. Sasori had just been going over the possibility that Deidara was either tripping balls or dead and the the subject matter was too disturbing to focus on.

"Pay attention," the redhead snapped. "As I _just _said, there's a chance Orochimaru will use one of his truth serums on Deidara. He uses it all the time on his captives, even though he never has much success. In the past, the drug has been a mixture of hallucinagens that made the subjects go completely mad. I know he's been working to improve it, so-"

"So I can expect to Deidara to be out of his fucking mind when I try to rescue him?" Kisame snapped. "That's _shitty_." 'Shitty' was a huge understatement - losing one's mind to hallucinagens was something he'd actually witnessed, when one of his classmates back in the ninja academy had eaten a mushroom he'd thought was edible. The poor kid had foamed at the mouth and tried to claw his eyes out - even weeks later, he hadn't recovered. His own parents had put him out of his misery in the end... it had been the most humane option.

"I'm just telling you to be prepared for the worst," Sasori sighed, equally distressed. "He might even try to fight you! It's impossible to say what'll happen until you get down there."

Kisame got to his feet, beside himself with dread and impatience. When Sasori shot him a glare, he merely flipped the redhead off. "I'm done wasting time," he seethed. "If I had just charged in earlier-"

"You'd be locked in a cell next to Deidara," Sasori curtly finished. "Have you already forgotten that you collapsed and had a fuckin' seizure?!" He shook his head with disdain and pulled a pill from his pouch.

"I don't need any more drugs," Kisame muttered.

"No shit," the redhead replied sardonically. "This is a preventative measure - it's a temporary immunity against Orochimaru's venom. Take it right before you enter the lab."

Kisame shrugged as he grabbed up the pill. "It'll probably dissolve by then," he bluntly stated. "My pockets aren't _waterproof_."

"Ugh, then take it now," Sasori snapped, also rising to his feet. "But it'll only last about half an hour, so haul ass. In the meantime, I'm going to rig up this coastline with traps."

Kisame glowered at the puppetmaster as he popped the pill in his mouth. _Tell me to haul ass, _he thought bitterly. _As if I'd take my time! _Surprisingly, he was able to swallow the pill with barely any nausea - the drugs in his system probably had something to do with it. Considering both his size and his dire condition, he must have been administered enough of the substances to overdose a horse. "Alright," he said as he hoisted Samehada over his shoulder. "If I'm not back within an hour, just... call a meeting, I guess."

Sasori nodded, distracted. While planning, they'd considered summoning the other members. In the end, they'd decided against it - what good would backup do if they were half a day's journey away? And either way, Kisame was the only one who could reach the lab. There was probably a secret entrance somewhere that didn't require gills but it was unlikely they'd ever find it. "Yah," the redhead muttered. "Good luck."

Kisame snorted as he approached the edge of the cliff. "Luck has nothing to do with it," he replied. There was nothing more to say so he jumped down, landing exactly where he had before. Samehada merged with him immediately as if reading his thoughts. And as his outward appearance became more vicious, so did his mind - he shut off his empathy like it was no more than a lightswitch, preparing himself for battle with a practised ease that came with being trained by the Bloody Mist. _Anyone who crosses my path will have a fight on their hands, _he thought bluntly. _ I'll rip them limb from limb! _He sank into the water and shot toward the lab like a bullet, bristling with murderous intent.

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Cocaine? Morphine? Hallucinagens? What the fuck! Don't worry, this story's not gonna become a damn drug fest. As a matter of fact, the next chapter's gonna be better than drugs! It's gonna blow your mind with its awesomeness! I just gotta write it first, heheh!


	17. Chapter 17

Warning - this chapter has some weird crack pairings... and some screwed up, sinister rape. Just, uh, letting you know.

Orochimaru strolled through the cramped corridors of his lab, methodically checking on his experiments while he waited for the truth serum he'd given Deidara to take effect. Even when injected, it took the mixture of drugs about half an hour to set in - he'd tried making the process go faster by shooting the stuff straight into captives' veins but they had all died within the first five minutes. So injecting it into the muscle was the best bet, although it still sucked having to wait thirty minutes for a confession.

And he needed a confession, sorely! After discovering the bite mark on the blonde's neck, he couldn't pull his thoughts from the prospect of seeing Kisame again. The anticipation gave him a pang of mingled fear and excitement... the swordsman was one of the most formidable fighters he'd ever encountered but if he could be captured and imprisoned, the possibilities were endless...

First of all, he'd be a huge boon to the suiton research - his ability to manipulate water far surpassed any other suiton wielder he'd met before, including Suigetsu, whose strange genetic material was the main reason all his captives were turning into jelly. It was becoming a disappointing yet incontrovertable fact that the punk's ability to morph into liquid form couldn't be transferred. So there was no doubt that having Kisame's DNA at his disposal would greatly increase the success rate of his trials. Perhaps his captives would actually form gills!

Second of all, Orochimaru had somewhat of a crush on Kisame, although 'crush' wasn't really the correct word for the terrible, sadistic lust he felt toward the swordsman. He had no desire to take the bastard on a date and buy him flowers - he wanted to torture him, fuck him, dissect him until there was nothing left. So whatever you wanted to call that. More of a sick obsession than a crush.

The obsession had spawned about a decade ago, when Kisame had first joined the Akatsuki. He could still remember seeing the swordsman for the first time - hostile, freezing, soaked from head to toe. Like the ocean had chewed him up and spit him out. One of the many good things about transferring bodies every three years was that no matter how old he got, he always had a young, healthy brain that held onto information much better than his original would by now. So memories didn't fade, they remained as clear and detailed as photographs. Sometimes he loathed this ability, recalling terrible things from his past that he wished he could just... _delete_. But his memories of meeting Kisame were amongst his favorites. Since he had half an hour to kill, he allowed his mind to drift off a bit and relive that long-ago occurance. As the thoughts began to envelope him, he could feel the damp chill of the coastal winter on his skin, smell the salt in the air.

X X X

"This is bullshit," Kakuzu growled, shivering. "Why's this asshole so important that we have to wait for him in this miserable podunk?" The man's breath was fogging in the chill air, even through his mask.

"He's supposed to be a strong fighter," Orochimaru repeated for the millionth time, briskly rubbing his arms through his Akatsuki robe. "So perhaps it'll be worth being cold for a few minutes." He glanced over at Kakuzu to find that the man was looking away, already ignoring him. The stitched-up fucker was nearly fourty years his senior and thus regarded everything that came out of his mouth as no more than childish jibberish. The lack of respect was maddening! He'd never been treated so callously by anyone before; the bastard viewed his progress in scientific research as nothing but a 'vain waste of time' and his ability to transfer bodies as a 'revolting technique that never should have been discovered.' Bullshit! Utter bullshit! And as for the lofty title of 'sannin'? _It's just a title, _Kakuzu had grumbled. _Like all titles, it means absolutely nothing. Following that logic, *you* are nothing. _

So that's how life as an Akatsuki member had been treating him. He'd joined the organization to give himself a bit of security after fleeing Konoha, since he'd gotten sick of constantly being on the run. After a few years of hiding from every shinobi in the Five Great Nations, he'd felt more like a hunted animal than a genius who'd achieved immortality. When Pain had approached him, he'd eagerly taken the bargain - protection from the law in return for his aid in the Akatsuki's goals. It had sounded like a sweet deal at the time but since then, he was beginning to reconsider. Kakuzu was the only other significant member so they were often paired up for risky missions. And every time, he had to deal with the man's ludicrous lack of respect - after all the verbal abuse, his ego felt like a trampled pile of dogshit. The fact that they occasionally had casual sex (and Kakuzu always wound up being on top) only amplified the sannin's shame.

But no matter. This Akatsuki nonsense was just a stepping stone. And hopefully, this new recruit would bring him some relief from Kakuzu's constant abuse. The guy was young, only twenty years old, so he'd likely give Orochimaru the fear and respect he deserved.

With all this in mind, the sannin sat himself down on the pier and squinted his eyes, beside himself with a desperate anticipation. He and Kakuzu had been instructed to wait for the recruit here, in a tiny coastal town in the Land of Waves. The kid had apparently been promptly inducted into the Akatsuki after slaughtering his superior in Kiri and stealing the Great Blade Samehada right off his back. How this correlated to becoming an Akatsuki member was a mystery but nonetheless, he was currently crossing the ocean from the Land of Water and potentially had all of Kirigakure heatedly chasing him for his crime. Crossing this channel in the dead of winter seemed like an impossible task in itself but Pain had dismissed the factor, as if sailing over a turbulent sea while being pelted by freezing rain was an everyday occurence.

Orochimaru knew for a fact that very few shinobi could sail at all, let alone in these conditions. Apparently, this kid was an exception to the rules. _Then again, _he thought, _what kind of shinobi could boast being from the Land of Water if they couldn't manage a ship? _He'd been holding onto this justification ever since arriving here, repeating it in his mind despite the violent crests of the waves and the blinding mist.

Neither Orochimaru nor Kakuzu knew exactly what to expect but they were prepared for the worst. One boat followed by an armada of angry Kiri shinobi, perhaps? Needless to say, they were both shocked when the recruit appeared through the wisps of icy mist not from the docking point but from behind them, walking up the pier from the shoreline. The punk was shirtless, he was soaked from head to toe, and he was so hypothermic he was actually _blue_. The infamous Great Blade was strapped to his back, verifying the vague description they'd recieved.

Kakuzu narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious. "Where's your boat?" he demanded, assuming a defensive stance.

The kid didn't gratify the question with a response. "You guys are the Akatsuki members, I'm assuming?" he asked instead as he warily stepped a little closer. "Or are you just two assholes who like wearing gay robes?" As his form cleared through the mist, Orochimaru realized that whether or not the punk was hypothermic, his skin was _naturally _blue, as was his hair. And were those gills?

Kakuzu's hand shot out from under his robe and grabbed the recruit's neck, his threadlike tentacles pulsing. "Answer my question," he grated, "Or I'll snap your neck!"

The kid winced but didn't struggle. "It doesn't matter how I got here," he rasped. "I wasn't followed. That should be enough." His strange eyes focused on the ocean, looking almost mournful.

Kakuzu held his grip for another minute or so before finally retracting his hand. "Then what, did you _swim _here?" he muttered. Judging by his tone of voice, the question was more incredulous than sarcastic.

Once again the kid didn't respond. He merely shivered and kept his gaze on the ocean, as if he could see all the way across it to his homeland.

"Either way, you must be freezing," Orochimaru said, breaking the silence. "We rented an inn so let's save the introductions until we get inside."

"_I _rented an inn," Kakuzu grumbled sourly. But when Orochimaru began to leave the dock, he grudgingly followed. The new recruit spent another moment looking out to sea before finally turning and trailing behind.

The inn was a shoddy two-story building with a roof primitively constructed of bamboo and straw. Like every other structure in the small fishing village, it spoke of hard times and destitution. Inside wasn't much better - it was dimly lit by oil lamps and smelled distinctly like seaweed - but at least it was warm. Growing up in the prosperous, technologically advanced village of Konoha, Orochimaru found little places like this to be oddly quaint.

Once all three men were inside, Kakuzu promptly strode to the small bar the innkeeper managed and ordered rounds of warm sake. The demand was rather redundant, as warm, locally fermented sake was the only thing the guy served. Orochimaru wasn't a big fan of alcohol but when the weather was this cold and wretched, drinking anything that warmed him up was a plus. The last to take a seat at the bar was the new recruit, who looked listless and utterly miserable.

"About those introductions-" Orochimaru started.

"I know who both of you are," the kid growled, cutting him off. He looked up from his cup of sake and ran his dark, predatory eyes over the sannin. "You're Orochimaru," he stated bluntly. "I know you from my bingo book. And you..." his gaze drifted over to Kakuzu, who had removed his mask so he could drink. "Your name's Kakuzu, am I right? I've seen you hanging around Kirigakure, gambling. You screwed Fuguki out of a ton of money once."

Kakuzu snorted. "At least I didn't _kill _him," he replied. After downing his cup of sake, he narrowed his eyes and scowled. "Fuguki wouldn't stop talking about you," he said. "It was 'Kisame' this and 'Kisame' that. You were his protege! And this," he gestured at the gigantic blade, "is how you repay him?"

_Demon Shark? _Orochimaru wondered incredulously. _And Pufferfish Demon? What kind of ridiculous names are those?! _And the fact that Kakuzu had been withholding information about the recruit was absolutely maddening. His thoughts dissipated when he heard something shatter; he looked over to find Kisame's ceramic cup of sake crushed to powder in his clenched fist.

"You don't know anything about either of us," the swordsman snarled, baring a set of sharp teeth... they looked as though they could cut through flesh like a knife through butter. "One more word about it and I'll kill you, too!"

Orochimaru tensed, tasting adrenaline in the back of his throat. _Kakuzu always knows exactly what to say to get under people's skin, _he seethed. And judging by the snide grin that was sliding over the fucker's lips, he was planning to push Kisame over the edge.

"I know more than you think," Kakuzu growled, right on queue. "I know he used to pay you for-"

Kisame's fist connected with the older man's face so quickly it was as if the punch was never even thrown. Without time to brace himself, Kakuzu went flying off his barstool and crashed up against the far wall, cracking the wooden planks with the impact. Orochimaru was surprised the whole building didn't collapse like a pile of toothpicks. The dust hadn't even settled before Kisame pounced on the man and unceremoniously proceeded to beat the living shit out of him. Whether or not Kakuzu had found the time to harden his body with his earth-style jutsu was a mystery - all Orochimaru could see was the swordsman's blue fist, spattered with blood as it repeatedly descended on the man's face.

The brain wasn't a vital point many shinobi aimed for when going in for the kill... but Kisame appeared to be intent on shattering Kakuzu's skull until there was nothing left but bloody pulp smashed into the floorboards. It was darkly amusing that even five hearts were worthless in this scenario. As satisfying as it would be to watch this all happen, Orochimaru decided to be a 'comrade' and break up the fight. Without getting up from his stool, he stretched out his neck and bit the swordsman right in the jugular, doping him up with enough paralyzing venom to stop him in mid-swing.

"Not... one more... word..." Kisame slurred. And then he was unconscious, collapsing onto the ground next to a stunned and thoroughly disgruntled Kakuzu. The older man briskly rose to his feet as though nothing had happened but staggered a little and ended up leaning against the wall for support. He was bleeding profusely - it was pouring from his mouth and leaking from his eye sockets like tears.

"You're _so _immortal," Orochimaru mused, his heart still beating quickly from the ruckus. "Looks like you might need some more stitches."

Kakuzu growled a curse and spat a mouthful of blood right onto Kisame's face. "I used my earth style," he rasped, "but he still made me bleed!" He narrowed his eyes and kicked the swordsman in the gut with considerable force. The kid coughed up some blood but remained unconscious. "Fuckin' _whore,_" Kakuzu seethed, drawing back his foot for another blow. He stopped in mid-kick when Samehada suddenly burst from its bindings in a frenzy of teeth and slate blue spikes, shimmying itself between Kisame and the older man. It looked like a sentient _cactus_.

Kakuzu grinned and let out an ironic snort of laughter, carefully withdrawing his foot. "So that's what Samehada looks like," he growled. "I had no idea the thing was alive. Fuguki never told me shit!"

"Apparently he told you _something,_" Orochimaru pried, staring down at both man and beast with peaked curiousity. "Fuguki used to pay him for..." He let the sentence trail off, hoping Kakuzu would finish it.

"Sex," Kakuzu muttered after a pause. "So now amongst our ranks is an official prostitute."

Orochimaru laughed genuinely. "Seriously?" he asked.

Kakuzu shrugged apathetically. "Like he said, I don't know much about either of them," he stated. "All I know is that apparently, he's _amazing _in the sack. And it's weird..." he paused to carefully nudge Kisame in the mouth with the toe of his sandal before Samehada could stop him, "...but Fuguki told me he gives great head. With those teeth, I'd imagine it would be like sticking your cock in a bear trap!"

The sannin laughed again, a little thrill running down his spine as he briefly imagined those full, blue lips wrapped around something phallic. Kisame was definitely a strange-looking kid but his abnormal features were exotic rather than freakish. It wasn't difficult at all to picture someone paying to abuse that taut, lithe body. "He was probably taught not to drag his teeth," he murmured, almost to himself.

Kakuzu clicked his tongue, clearly becoming annoyed with the topic. "Yah, whatever," he growled. "Half the boys in Kirigakure fuck for money. It's been that way for decades! Prostitution, drugs and gambling proliferate in miserable towns... and Kiri's as miserable as they come." He glanced over to the bar and called out for another round of sake but the bartender didn't respond. Upon closer inspection, the two discovered that the poor bastard had escaped through a back door, most likely when the fight had first started. Like many other podunks, this village considered passing shinobi to be both a blessing and a curse - the money they brought in helped fuel the economy yet the damage they inflicted often outweighed the financial gain. All in all, it was safe to say that most of the villagers in this town were currently huddled in their cellars, fearing for their lives.

"Fuckin' pussy," Kakuzu snarled, grabbing a crisp, white bar towel and wiping his bloody face with it. "I guess drinks are on the house." He reached over the bar and grabbed a bottle of sake, taking a slam before offering it to Orochimaru. The sannin accepted it reluctantly and took a small sip before setting it down and returning his attentions to Kisame. The poor kid had curled instinctively into a fetal position and Samehada was whining mournfully, lapping his face with concern. Orochimaru had heard bits and pieces about the blade, mostly that it 'chose' its master. It was now evident that Kisame hadn't merely stolen the weapon - perhaps Samehada had even participated in the murder, turning against Fuguki in favor of his beloved protege. _ A sentient weapon obviously has its pros and cons, _the sannin mused, _but it doesn't look like it's about to betray Kisame anytime soon._

His thoughts dispersed when Kakuzu shot out his arm and grabbed the kid roughly by the hair. "I'm taking this bitch up to his suite," he growled. "I'm sick of looking at him." He then proceeded to drag Kisame across the floor and up the rickety stairway, letting his head bang violently against each step. Samehada shrieked furiously and clamped its jaws onto the man's wrist but the attack had no effect against his earth-style defense. When he reached Orochimaru's door, he opened it up and furiously slung Kisame inside. He had to slam Samehada against the floor a few times to get it to release its jaws. When he finally wrenched free of its grip, he retracted his arm and briskly closed the door before it could attack again.

"You moron," Orochimaru hissed. "That's my room!"

"No, it's _my _room," Kakuzu growled, inspecting his arm for bite marks. "I'm the one who put up the money. And you know I don't like to squander my cash, so you're gonna have to share it." He ran his eyes over the sannin and grinned crookedly. "Unless you wanna share a bed with me tonight," he bluntly proposed.

Orochimaru rolled his eyes, humiliated. This was one of those cases where he wished he looked his age; his youthful body was the only damn reason Kakuzu wanted to fuck him. _I've achieved immortality, _he seethed,_ and this is what I get! _The older man was definitely a good lay - he had a monstrous cock and a chisled body - but his violent, sadistic nature in the sack always left the sannin feeling wretched and insignificant. "No thanks," he finally muttered, placing his hand on the doorhandle to his room. "I've suffered enough abuse from you today!"

Kakuzu's hungry grin turned into a scowl. Orochimaru had never turned him down before and it was clear he was furious. "Fuckin' prude," he snarled. He stepped behind the sannin and roughly grabbed him by the hip, pressing their bodies together back to chest. Orochimaru tensed and bit back a sigh - he could feel the bulge of the taller man's cock against his ass, enormous even though it was only half-hard. When Kakuzu ground his hips slightly, the sannin shivered despite himself and tightened his grip on the doorhandle.

"Damnit," he hissed, his face hot. "Knock it off!" His breath hitched in his throat when Kakuzu's hand slid over to his groin and grabbed his cock through his pants.

"You're already hard," the older man growled in his ear. "You must like the abuse." He ground against the sannin again, harder this time.

"I told you," Orochimaru grated, "_knock it off!_"Before his willpower shattered, he derisively turned the doorhandle and pushed open the door, wrenching himself from Kakuzu's grip. The older man growled in frustration but remained in the hallway. Sadistic as he was, he wasn't the type to force himself on anyone.

"You're kidding me," he snarled, crossing his arms.

"No, I'm not," the sannin muttered. He slammed the door between them, leaving the man seething alone in the hallway. Flustered beyond belief and terribly humiliated, it took a minute for his head to stop spinning. _That bastard, _he thought to himself, _he almost got me to fuck him! _He felt between his legs and sure enough, he was fully erect. _For crying out loud,_ he brooded, embarrassed. His goal of achieving ultimate knowledge seemed ridiculous and out of reach when something so base as lust could overpower him.

A ferocious growl snapped him out of his introspect; he focused on the room to find Samehada laying defensively over Kisame's chest, bristling with anger. His interaction with Kakuzu had flustered him so much that he'd completely forgotten these two were in here. Cautiously, he took a few steps forward. Kisame was sprawled out on his back, shivering fitfully and bleeding from a wound on his head, no doubt from being roughly hauled up the stairs. His breath was coming in shallow gasps and his lips were a slightly darker shade of blue. _Guess he really does have hypothermia, _Orochimaru realized. _Must not have set in until I paralyzed him. _Adrenaline was an amazing thing - it could make a person's body keep functioning even in the direst of circumstances. Luckily, the hypothermia didn't seem too severe... the fact that Kisame was shivering verified that his body wasn't shutting down yet. He probably would have recovered already had it not been for the venom - while it wasn't exactly warm in this room, it wasn't freezing either.

_Nonetheless, I need to give him the antidote,_ Orochimaru told himself. He warily kept his eyes on Samehada as he walked over to his traveling bag and opened it up. He always kept some antivenom handy, just incase something like this happened. The serum was neatly dosed into syringes, making them easy to administer. Unfortunately, Samehada was likely going to pose a problem. Not wanting to test the theory, he quickly subdued the beast with an immobilizing seal and dragged it off its master. Despite its threatening appearance, the poor thing was too stupid to put up much of a fight - it whined feebly and strained futily against the tattoo-like markings.

With Samehada out of the way, administering the antivenom was a breeze. When he sunk the needle into Kisame's shoulder and pushed in the liquid, the swordsman growled softly but didn't struggle. It took about twenty minutes for the antidote to fully take effect so Orochimaru decided to use the time to inspect the wound on the kid's head. If it was bad enough, it could result in a concussion. He carefully removed the Kiri headband, using it to wipe off the blood Kakuzu had spat onto his face before setting it aside. When he ran his fingers through Kisame's hair, searching for the wound, he noted with some interest that his ears were normal-looking. For some reason, he'd been thinking they'd be pointy.

_Here it is,_ he thought as his fingers found a wet spot at the base of Kisame's skull. The boy's thick hair was matted with blood, sticking to the wound. _But I need to get a better look, _he told himself. Carefully, he slid his hands under Kisame's back and rolled him onto his side, eliciting another soft growl. The swordsman's skin was cool and surprisingly smooth, like polished marble. Orochimaru felt a thrill run down his spine from the contact - he couldn't help but let his fingers wander a little, running curiously over the man's chest and stomach. _Damn, he's strong, _the sannin marveled. Kisame's abs were like a washboard, the muscles hard as steel beneath the skin. The wasn't an ounce of fat on him, either. _Well, maybe just an ounce, _he mused. He slid his hand over to the round curve of the boy's ass and gave it a quick squeeze. "Fuck, that's nice," he breathed aloud, the blood rushing to his groin.

All of the sudden, he couldn't care less about Kisame's head wound. He was still horny from his interaction from Kakuzu and after feeling that perfect, firm ass, his cock was uncomfortably hard, making a tent out of his pants. _ I have twenty minutes before he wakes up, _he told himself. _That's enough time to fuck him. _Raping someone in their sleep was a creepy, insidious act but it definitely wouldn't be the worst thing Orochimaru had ever done. He stole people's bodies and wore them around like suits! So it wasn't hard to justify abusing Kisame's body for a few minutes. He quickly rose to his feet and locked the door, shedding his cloak and shirt in the process. When he crouched back down next to the swordsman, he grinned hotly and grazed his fingers over the boy's cold lips. "I just need a few minutes of your time," he said softly. He leaned over and covered Kisame's mouth with his own, slipping in his tongue a little before pulling away. The kid's mouth was delicious and inviting; it was hard not to linger there but time was of the essence.

He rolled Kisame onto his back and roughly tugged off his pants, only stripping off one pant leg completely. He left the sandals and Kiri-issue leg warmers on, afraid that it would take too long to redress him. But this was good enough. The swordsman had a gorgeous body, ridiculously so. Long, slender legs, a big cock, and a perfect, neat triangle of blue pubic hair that matched the hair on his head. Other than that, he was completely hairless - there wasn't even peach fuzz on his arms and legs._ He naturally has a swimmer's body,_ Orochimaru marveled. _ Amazing! _He leaned over and ran his tongue over the smooth skin, trailing down his muscular abdomen. The taut flesh tasted vaguely of sea water, making the sannin wonder if the kid really had swam across the channel. When he reached Kisame's limp cock, he took the head in his mouth and sucked it a little. It stiffened slightly from his attentions and a slurred, muttered curse met his ears. He looked up to find a pretty, violet blush coloring the kid's gill-patterned cheeks.

_I guess his numbness is beginning to recede, _Orochimaru realized. _ I have to be quick! _He hurriedly unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his hard cock, spitting on it to get it wet. His head was spinning with anticipation as he slung one of Kisame's legs over his shoulder and grabbed his slender hips to hold him in position. The sight of such an exotic, lethally built body sprawled helplessly beneath him was almost too horny to bear - he could already feel himself becoming dangerously close to orgasm, just from the thought of what he was about to do. Beside himself with lust, he pressed the head of his dick against the boy's tight little asshole and pushed until it slipped in. As he eased in the length, Kisame groaned another curse and squirmed deliciously, the blush deepening on his cheeks. Once it was in to the hilt, both men were breathing quickly, Orochimaru from the feel of the slick passage squeezing his dick, Kisame from a combination of pain and hypothermia.

When having consentual sex, Orochimaru considered himself to be a sensitive and respectful lover. Whether it was a woman or a man, he was always attentive to their needs, making sure they weren't in pain and bringing them to orgasm before he came. But this wasn't consentual, so he felt no need to be respectful, at all. He furiously began to slam in his cock, making the swordsman gasp raggedly and wince with each thrust. _No point in being nice about it, _he justified, biting his lip. _ I'll just give him a painkiller before he wakes up! _It was funny... the older he got, the easier it became to justify doing terrible things. Perhaps he'd eventually reach the point where his empathy was so atrophied that it stopped functioning entirely. In the meantime, he'd have to make due with inward excuses, as if he was conning the part of him that was still human into commiting heinous crimes, bribing himself with his own sly tongue.

Needless to say, he was surprised when he noticed that Kisame's cock had become fully erect, the tip glistening with precum. Even more shocking was that he was grinding his hips ever so slightly in rhythm with the sannin's thrusts, as if urging him to penetrate even deeper. The movements had a practiced, fluid ease that suggested he'd been sprawled in this position many times before. _I guess he really is a whore, _Orochimaru mused as he eagerly complied with the kid's subconscious demands, jabbing his cock in as far as it would go with each thrust. _ If he woke up, would he kick my ass or ask me for a fee?_

Luckily, he didn't have to find out. When he grabbed Kisame's shaft and started jerking it off, the kid moaned and orgasmed almost instantly, coating his own stomach with cum. Orochimaru followed seconds later, pulling out right before his climax and spilling his seed on Kisame's thigh. While he was confident he'd be able to dull the swordsman's pain with opiates, he didn't want to end up having to explain to the kid why there was cum in his ass.

Once his head finally stopped spinning from the orgasm, he briskly rose to his feet and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, using it to wipe up all the evidence. He then wrestled Kisame's pants back on and injected him with a shot of morphine. (Like the antivenom, he kept it around 'just incase.') All of this was done just in time, as mere seconds later, the swordsman's eyes fluttered open and began to dart wildly around the room. The poor bastard looked as though he'd just awoken from a nightmare. Orochimaru snapped up a stray button on his pants right before that panick-stricken gaze focused on him.

"Where the fuck am I?" Kisame rasped, his voice slurred and weak. He tried to get up but his muscles buckled half-way through and he went crashing back to the floor.

"Calm down," Orochimaru hissed. "The poison hasn't worn off yet."

"What?" the swordsman muttered deleriously, struggling to a sitting position. "Wait... where the fuck _am _I?" It was obvious he was too doped up from the lingering venom and the morphine to get his bearings. Rather than bother explaining, Orochimaru merely sighed and released the seal on Samehada, passively watching it scoot up to its master's side and lick his face with concern. Maybe the weapon would calm him down... or something.

"Samehada," Kisame slurred, confused. "What are you doing? Where's Fuguki?" Upon uttering his superior's name, his wild eyes suddenly went blank. For a minute or so, he stared vacantly at nothing in particular, his already ragged breathing quickening to hyperventilation. Samehada whined, confused. The beast had likely already forgotten about its previous owner's demise.

"Yah, you killed him," Orochimaru muttered, annoyed. "Get over it."

Kisame listlessly turned his head toward the sannin, following his voice, but his eyes were still completely blank, like two little voids. An involuntary chill ran down Orochimaru's spine upon meeting that gaze, which saw nothing yet revealed everything: a devestating regret, an unspeakable sorrow. As if a piece of his soul had been violently ripped away.

"Damnit," the sannin growled, diverting his eyes. "Quit staring at me." He'd seen looks like this before in the eyes of shinobi who'd lost someone dear to them. But as many times as he'd seen it, he still wasn't used to it... and the horrible vacancy of Kisame's gaze chilled him to the core.

Finally, the swordsman's hyperventilation got the better of him and he collapsed to the floor, his harrowing eyes drifting shut. Orochimaru sighed with relief, glad the awful moment was over. He grabbed a blanket off the bed and slung it over the kid (and a bristling, worried Samehada) to warm him up, although he was fairly certain he'd fucked the hypothermia right out of him.

_Poor bastard, _he mused. _ He's traumatized as hell right now and what does he get? A dose of venom and a cock up his ass! But I suppose there couldn't be a more suitable welcome into the Akatsuki. In fact, that should be our slogan for new recriuts: 'Thanks for joining! Now you're completely fucked!'_

X X X

When the memory finally faded, Orochimaru found himself on the opposite end of his lab, near his private quarters. He had a tendency to wander around when deep in thought, letting himself get lost both mentally and physically. The recollection left him feeling a strange mixture of lust and sentimentality. Even though his relationship with Kakuzu had been frustrating, at least it had been... _real_. That was the only word he could think of to describe it. And as for Kisame? The poor swordsman had been incapacitated by grief for nearly a week, slipping in and out of consciousness and refusing to eat until Orochimaru had been forced to sedate him and shove food pills down his throat. He'd recovered, eventually. And even through his delerium, he'd never divulged a single word about his relationship with Fuguki. The man was a mystery in so many ways. It was possible he'd even known about the rape, because the next time Orochimaru asked him for 'a minute of his time,' Kisame had beaten the living shit out of him. Forbidden jutsu be damned when a fucker whose strength exceeded Tsunade's was breaking every bone in your body.

And now there was a chance he'd get to see the man again! A small part of him didn't even want to harm Kisame - it wanted to offer him some sake and ask him how life had been treating him. But the rest of him wanted violent, horrible things - a reenactment of that long-ago rape but far more sadistic. _We're no longer comrades, _he told himself. _If I capture him, there won't be anything holding me back!_

He shook his head, mildly disgusted with himself. He wouldn't be able to capture Kisame at all with these thoughts running through his mind. _I should masturbate or something, _he told himself. _I need my head to be level. _But as soon as the idea occured, it was replaced with an even better one. Deidara was currently locked up in a holding cell, cuffed to the wall and utterly helpless. Plus, the truth serum was probably just setting in. He'd be killing two birds with one stone! _ I'll rape him and get a confession out of him, _he decided. _ And I know just how to achieve both._

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Crack pairings? Come at me, bro.


	18. Chapter 18

Kisame swam furiously toward the suiton lab, riding the currents to gain speed. It hadn't seemed like this long of a swim when he'd done it earlier but he had to remind himself that the place was a few miles away. Time always seemed to pass more slowly when he was in a hurry to get somewhere - one would think it would be the opposite. Nonetheless, the seconds ticked sluggishly by like hours. As he neared his destination, it was as if everything was in slow motion. He had a feeling that the drugs in his system were amplifying this effect, although he wasn't sure.

Were he any less angry, he'd probably be afraid. Orochimaru was the most vile, disgusting shinobi he'd ever met, sadistic and utterly self-centered. In their brief time as comrades in the Akatsuki, he'd had a hard time being around the sannin without shivering in revulsion. Even Samehada loathed the man, growling and bristling at his foul, almost poisonous chakra. His jutsu was revolting, his appearance was effeminate yet monstrous, and perhaps the most frightening aspect was his weird god complex. The sannin saw himself as a being of higher intelligence, his lofty realms of thought far surpassing everyone else's. Fine, whatever. So he had an ego. But Orochimaru was not a merciful god. Instead of sharing his apparently vast wealth of knowledge on the pissants around him, he treated mortals as fodder for experimentation, sacrifices to his goal of ultimate understanding. Everywhere he went, despair followed - entire villages razed and subdued, their inhabitants imprisoned to fuel his research.

The god-complex was nothing more than a huge inner excuse for the crimes he commited. How did he con himself into believing such a lie? Surely he knew that he was no more sentient than the people whose lives he ruined! Yet somehow he had managed to trump the foundations of common sense, warping his own mind until his empathy toward mankind was similar to a human's empathy toward ants. Who cares if I crush a few under my boot? Hell, I'll kick down the whole hill and watch them scurry around. Maybe I'll learn something from it.

Ridiculous. Utterly fucking ridiculous. As someone who often saw himself as a less-than-human tool, Kisame couldn't even begin to comprehend Orochimaru's twisted justifications. Nor did he want to. All he knew was that the sannin was probably treating Deidara like an insect with its wings pinned to corkboard. It was only a matter of time before there'd be nothing left of the blonde - Orochimaru would pick him apart, dissect him, drive him insane with his sadistic tortures. Kisame thought a truth serum would be a rather redundant addition to his already horrible interrogations... just looking in the sannin's eyes was enough to make most people go mad.

_Damnit,_ Kisame seethed, _I have to hurry! _But he was already traveling as quickly as possible. All he could do was try to keep his head level and swim like hell.

X X X

"Sasuke. Hey, Sasuke!"

Sasuke Uchiha tried to pretend he was still asleep. He felt like shit and the last thing he wanted to do was talk to Orochimaru. Kabuto had been administering him drugs to enhance his chakra - the result thus far had been nothing but a crawling sickness that made his head spin and his guts hurt. He'd been hurling into a trashcan next to his bed for the past few days... so needless to say, he was in no mood for a conversation.

"Sasuke! Wake up!" The sannin's oily tone held an unusual degree of excitement and impatience.

Finally, Sasuke muttered a curse and opened his eyes. "What the hell do you want?" he muttered, glancing over at the doorway. When he saw the figure there, he felt a pang of cold dread. It was that _blue _guy. Itachi's partner.

"Well? Do I look like him?" Appearance aside, it was definitely still Orochimaru's voice. He shifted in the doorway and grinned, flashing sharp teeth.

"Why the hell do you want to look like that bastard?" Sasuke muttered, trying not to sound as unnerved as he felt. Orochimaru's transformation jutsu was more powerful than most - he could change his own appearance down to the last detail, getting little nuances and features that the majority of shinobi left out. His prowess in this ability had even allowed him to infiltrate Konoha during the chunin exams. So needless to say, his current form as Itachi's sharky partner brought forth some negative feelings in Sasuke.

"Why do I want to look like Kisame?" Orochimaru mused.

_Demon Shark?_ Sasuke wondered. _That sounds more like a nickname!_

The sannin crossed his arms in an all too Orochimaru-esque posture and stated, "It's none of your business. I need to look like him for something... _private_... and I haven't seen him in almost ten years. You saw him more recently so tell me what you think."

Sasuke rolled his eyes and scowled. While he couldn't care less about Orochimaru's personal life, it still annoyed him that the sannin never told him anything. _ He could have Itachi imprisoned here and he wouldn't let me know, _he seethed. Nonetheless, he found himself scrutinizing the transformation, finding little things wrong with the strange features. "His face is a bit sharper," he stated, "And I'm pretty sure he's taller than that." In his brief interaction with Kisame, all he could remember clearly was how the man towered over him.

Orochimaru laughed. "You're probably right about the face," he mused, "but I know how tall he is. You were just shorter last time you saw him."

Sasuke cursed under his breath, his face hot. Orochimaru always had to remind him that he was just a child, as if to reinforce the fact that he was smaller and weaker than Itachi. "Also," the Uchiha said bitterly, "I have no idea what Kisame looks like without a _shirt _on. No wonder you won't tell me what this is for! It's probably something _perverted_." Although if that was the case, he supposed there couldn't be a better transformation. Kisame, apparently, was _ripped_. His body was muscular yet lithe, conveying a honed balance between brute strength and agility. Paired with his blue skin and predatory eyes, he looked like the kind of man who could rip you to shreds or fuck you to death, depending on his mood. Deadly, in every sense of the word. He felt a brief pang of jealousy knowing Itachi got to be around such a sexy... _beast_.

"It's none of your business," Orochimaru repeated. "Now get some rest." He turned and sauntered out the door, closing it softly behind him. Sasuke felt both aroused and disgusted as he found himself ogling the transformed sannin's firm ass before the door intruded upon of his line of sight.

He flopped back down onto his bed, his head spinning with mingled emotions. Hatred, mostly. Seeing Kisame only reminded him of Itachi. But there was also lust, a feeling he'd been having to cope with more and more as he got older. Puberty was a _bitch_. He found himself fantasizing about all kinds of weird, perverted shit - sometimes he was fucking Naruto's brains out, bashing that pretty little head into a wall as he screwed him from behind, other times he was being ravaged by none other than Orochimaru. Fantasies, of course. He'd never had his way with Naruto, nor did Orochimaru ever try to fuck him. The sannin was a pervert to the core - Sasuke had accidently walked into his mentor's room a time or two to find a tangle of naked limbs - but he never showed it around his beloved vessel. If he was attracted to Sasuke, he certainly never revealed it. Perhaps he was afraid that if he did, Sasuke would run away screaming, never to return. Which he probably would, although honestly, he wasn't sure. Orochimaru was a disgusting human being... but he was probably pretty killer in the sack. The things that tongue could do!

_Damnit, _he brooded, closing his eyes. _What the hell is the matter with me? _He hated hormones and all that they entailed. If he wasn't constantly around Orochimaru, he definitely wouldn't be thinking about the sannin in such a way. Unfortunately, his relative isolation gave him little to lust over. He wondered what it would be like if he were still in Konoha. _ I'd probably be getting laid twenty-four seven, _he mused. _Naruto's ass would constantly be sore! And Sakura would finally find a guy to worship who's *not* gay._

He grinned, his nausea briefly subsiding. Thinking about Konoha always calmed him, in a way. While he didn't exactly miss the village, he enjoyed reminiscing from time to time. His life was so damn serious now - his time as part of team seven seemed like comic relief in comparison. It was enjoyable to indulge in memories of their missions. Naruto, always acting the fool. Kakashi and his smutty novels. Sakura, too busy swooning to make herself useful. Those had been happy days... but happiness didn't make a person strong. Hatred did, and he nursed it like a seedling, tending to it, watching it grow. Revenge was his destiny, his raison d'etre, and while it would be nice to reside contentedly in Konoha, it just wasn't meant to be. _I'll go back when Itachi's dead at my feet,_ he told himself. Although he wasn't sure of the fact. He'd been filled with hate for so long, he wasn't sure if it would ever go away. Could he ever be content? The question often fluttered through his mind and he never found an answer.

X X X

When Deidara began to hallucinate, he felt a mild consolation. _ I've tripped before, _he told himself. _I can handle this. _

And indeed, he _had _tripped before, back when his Iwa headband had meant something other than 'criminal'. There was a stubby little cactus native to the Land of Earth that had hallucinagenic effects when ingested; it was somewhat of a rite amongst angsty teenagers to go out into the wilderness, eat a few pads, and trip balls. It was supposed to be a spiritual journey... or something like that.

He and Kurotsuchi had done it when they were fifteen or so, telling their seniors that they were going to train out in the wilderness for a few days. They'd both eaten what the other kids had told them would be a sufficient amount and for a while, nothing had happened. Perhaps they'd eaten the wrong cactus? But after about an hour, everything had started trembling and glowing, twisting and swirling. The hallucination hadn't been just visual either - his whole body had tingled and touching his own skin had felt like touching something that was mildly electrified. After a while of stumbling around and laughing uncontrollably, he had found that touching Kurotsuchi felt even better than touching himself. The two had wound up half-naked, giggling maniacly and unsure of what the hell they were doing. Hands tentatively groping, mouths bumping together. The fact that he was gay didn't really seem to matter right then... fooling around just felt _good_.

It had all been fantastic until she'd decided it would be a good idea to go down on him. It was then that he remembered he wasn't into women, that intimacy with the opposite sex made him feel dirty and repulsed. His trip instantly turned sour and he found himself shrugging her off him and wrestling on his pants, blathering about how 'this is wrong, this is wrong!' He ended up wandering off alone, leaving her sobbing and distraught.

After that, hallucinagens had never appealed to him. Nor did he get intimate with Kurotsuchi again; the two shied from eachother and never discussed what had happened. Some things were less awkward if you just avoided them. Anyway, the trip hadn't been the spiritual journey he'd been expecting... it had just been fucking weird.

But it hadn't been unbearable. And now that Deidara knew to some degree what Orochimaru had injected into him, he felt a tenuous relief in at least knowing what to expect. As the damp cement ceiling began to tremble and drip, he fought down a wave of anxiety and tried to think pleasant thoughts, knowing that the second he panicked, the trip would go downhill. So he thought of Kisame. That was a nice thought. He tried to visualize his experiences with the swordsman, drawing up the first time they'd fucked. The beautiful forest, the river, the mossy ground. Seeing Kisame naked and marveling at the perfection of his taut, muscular body.

The trip gathered steam. His skin began to prickle uncomfortably and the walls of his cell heaved and rippled like they were alive. This was much more intense than eating that cactus with Kuro... the visual element was more graphic and warped. _Don't panic, _he repeated to himself, flexing his hands in his cuffs. _Just think about Kisame!_

Yet as his senses became more and more twisted, he found it difficult to think about anything at all. Soon, there was nothing left on his mind but a crawling, animalistic fear that made him wrench with renewed vigor at his binds. He just wanted _out_, out of this horrific, dripping room with its ugly, breathing walls. There was a loud, terrifying sound reverberating in his skull and he was pretty sure it was the sound of his own screams.

X X X

Orochimaru spent another few minutes in front of a mirror, correcting the little nuances Sasuke had noticed. He then adjusted his voice to match Kisame's - even though years had passed since he'd heard it, the man's rough yet lilting tone was something he remembered distinctly. It was an accent native to Kiri... not in word pronunciation so much as a casual, 'that's life' way of saying things. Kisame could say 'I'm gonna gut you and strangle you with your own intestines' with no more or less intensity than 'I think I need a haircut,' or some such mundane statement. Detached, almost bemused. It reminded him of Kabuto's passive way of speaking, as if nothing, no matter how horrifying, was worth the effort of sounding distressed. Orochimaru found this casual tone to be more difficult than anything else - his own way of speaking was much more... _ambitious_. Every time he spoke, a little bit of excitement about his lofty goals always leaked out. Making his voice sound apathetic was a surprisingly strenuous task.

When everything seemed to be correct, he flashed a little grin and headed toward the holding cells. Even if he hadn't successfully imitated every little nuance of Kisame's appearance and demeanor, it didn't really matter that much. By now, Deidara was undoubtedtly hallucinating so heavily that all he'd notice was the blue skin. Orochimaru probably could have just dumped a bucket of cyan paint on himself to get the same results. But when he was interrogating (and possibly raping) someone, he liked to be thorough. He wanted Deidara to truly believe that Kisame had come to the rescue... only then would he start spilling the beans about the Akatsuki's current missions, goals, and various hideouts. And as a bonus, maybe he'd even willingly spread his legs.

Orochimaru hoped that would be the case. He didn't really like it when his victims struggled and resisted - it was a pain in the ass, no pun intended.

When he turned down the corridor that led to the holding cells, he heard Deidara long before he reached his door. The blonde was screaming bloody murder, his voice ragged and hoarse. The other prisoners were yelling obscenities in response, clearly annoyed by the horrific ruckus. The corridor was practically reverberating with everyone's combined shouts. Orochimaru threateningly banged his fist on the doors as he walked by, shutting the captives up one by one. By the time he reached Deidara's cell, the young man's wails were the only sound, echoing nightmarishly through the concrete and metal hallway. The kid sounded like he was being brutally stabbed to death.

_Damnit, that's annoying, _he seethed as he unlocked the door. He wanted to say the sentiment outloud but reminded himself that Kisame would most certainly not hiss repremands upon finding his lover. _He'd say something comforting, _he decided when he swung open the door.

"Hey," he said, entering the cell. "It's gonna be alright." After saying it, he realized that he was terrible at comforting people.

Deidara was a fucking mess. He'd been struggling so instensely that his wrists were bleeding, and his face was wet with tears. When his gaze drifted up to meet Orochimaru's, his pupils were so dilated that only a thin circle of the blue irises was visible. He opened his mouth as if to say something but only a sob came out. After staring wildly at the sannin for a few moments, his gaze slid away and settled on a wall, as if the slab of concrete was somehow more interesting than the man standing before him. And then he began to struggle again, twisting his bloody wrists in their cuffs.

_Shit,_ Orochimaru seethed. _I gave him too much! He can't even see me! _He stepped closer then crouched down in front of the blonde, watching the younger man intently. The kid was just... _gone_. Off in another world. The sannin felt a pang of disappointment; he'd really been hoping that the serum would work this time. Unfortunately, it was working exactly how it had in the past - ineffectively. He wondered briefly if perhaps Kabuto had been screwing with the doses. It would be something he'd do... he was always doing little things to get Orochimaru's attention, even if the attention was a violent reprimand. For such a medical genius, the acts seemed incongruously childish.

He called out to Deidara a few more times but only earned himself another brief, vacant stare. Patience thinning, he finally slapped the blonde across the face, whipping his head to the side. What was the point of pretending to be empathetic if his efforts went unnoticed? He even considered reverting to his true form but decided against it - perhaps Deidara would at least come to enough to recognize Kisame's face. After a few more brisk slaps and a hissed 'snap out of it!', the blonde finally stopped struggling and squinted his eyes at the sannin. A flicker of recongition lit up his face, as if he was remembering a dream.

"Kisame?" he slurred, not seeming to notice that his lip had split and was oozing blood. "I've been trying to think about you... thought I lost you..." He smiled faintly, his features softening. He looked more as though he was watching a film than anticipating rescue. When Orochimaru reached up and grazed the bite mark on his neck, he sighed and leaned into the caress.

_He thinks this is just a hallucination, _the sannin realized, watching the blonde swoon from his touch. While it was disappointing that the kid was so far gone, it was mildly assuring to know that he had no hope of rescue - he seemed content just with thinking he'd manipulated his trip enough to see his lover.

His thoughts dispersed when Deidara's smile vanished and he started crying again. "What's the matter?" he asked, not really expecting a response.

"I wish I could tell you..." the blonde murmured, his eyes wet. "I know what Itachi did to you... you didn't deserve it... and you don't deserve me..." He looked down at the ground, tears streaming down his face. "I'm so sorry I can't be there for you," he choked. "And I'm the reason he..." he trailed off and wept, his little body shaking with sobs.

_What the hell is he blathering about? _Orochimaru wondered, his curiosity peaked. Rather than try to say something comforting, he voiced the question aloud. "What do you mean?" he asked, cupping the blonde's chin in his hand and forcing their eyes to meet.

Deidara didn't seem to register the question, his gaze sliding off to the side. "And I'm no better," he slurred. "You were hurting and I just took advantage of you... I should have comforted you but I just..." he trailed off yet again. "You just looked so vulnerable..."

Orochimaru grinned despite himself. _Sounds like Kisame got raped, _he mused. _Guess I'm not the only one on the list._ And if anyone was capable of subduing the swordsman, it would be Itachi. He still remembered the paralysis genjutsu the Uchiha had cast on him - how strong it had been, how badly it had hurt. When his hand had been chopped off, he'd barely even registered the pain. Sure, he'd been trying to take over Itachi's body... but the pain of that genjutsu had seemed excessively malicious. Although the Uchiha's demeanour was passive and demure, there was something inside him that was deeply sadistic. He was definitely capable of rape. And by the way Deidara was talking, perhaps he was guilty of it, too? It sounded ludicrous that the gentle looking blonde could have forced himself on Kisame... but then again, a lot of things were ludicrous. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing he'd ever heard of.

_Everyone wants a piece of Kisame, _he thought, bemused. _The bastard's like a drug! How can you resist using him?_

All these thoughts of rape were beginning to make him horny. He tightened his grip on Deidara's chin, making the blonde inhale sharply. "So Kisame's had it pretty rough, I take it?" he asked, dropping the swordsman's voice and speech patterns. "Well... now it's your turn." The blonde's eyes widened slightly as he picked up on the fact that it was Orochimaru's voice coming from Kisame's lips. "And no, you're not hallucinating this," he stated bluntly. He stuck out his long tongue and flicked it, grinning.

Deidara drew in a big breath, getting ready to scream bloody murder, but Orochimaru clamped a hand over his mouth so that nothing but a muffled sob came out.

X X X

When Kisame approached the lab this time around, he was expecting there to be some guards posted around the little hatch in the machinery room's floor. He cautiously peeked around, barely letting his head break the water's surface, and was surprised to find that the area was still unmanned. _Orochimaru's an idiot, _he mused as he reverted back to human form then silently pulled himself up onto the concrete floor. _ I can't believe he's being so careless! _He took a second to quickly shed his clothes and wring them out, not wanting to leave a trail of water behind him. When everything was damp yet no longer dripping, he redressed and strapped Samehada to his back, then slunk past the hulking machinery to the door that led into the rest of the lab. The door had no slot or peephole so he spent a long time with his ear pressed against it, listening for footsteps. Once he was certain there was no one on the other side, he tried the doorknob, expecting it to be locked. It wasn't.

_Stupid, _he marveled as he eased open the door and slipped into the drab, concrete hallway. _So stupid. _Remembering Sasori's schematics, he took a left, toward the private quarters. He was surprised at the lack of human life in this place - it seemed as though everyone here was locked up. Orochimaru usually had quite a few assistants to aid his research but perhaps the small size of this place had forced him to reduce his manpower.

He was beginning to think he was the only person here who wasn't a captive when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Someone was coming from a corridor that branched off up to the right, their slow, casual gate suggesting that they were in the sannin's employ, not a suiton-sick escapee. He slid silently along the wall and waited calmly for the person's approach. He'd see them before they saw him.

When the person came into view, he had a split second to analyse him before making his move. Lab coat, glasses, slightly overweight. A drone. Not the vessel, who he needed alive. Before the guy even saw him, he sprung from the wall and snapped his neck, clamping his arm over the man's mouth to muffle his brief screams before he died. He then carried the corpse back to the machinery room and dumped it into the hatch, watching blandly as the current carried it away. One corpse or a thousand, he didn't give a shit. He'd kill everyone here if that's what it would take to get to Deidara.

The second time stalking through the hall, he didn't encounter anyone. He made it all the way to the private quarters unnoticed. It was obvious that no one here was expecting an intruder. This was a huge flaw on Orochimaru's part - any village or organization worth their salt knew to be prepared for anything. Kisame himself was proof that even a place as hidden as this could be found and infiltrated.

_If Sasori's correct, the vessel's room will be right next Orochimaru's, _he told himself as he crept down the hall lined with identical doors. Finally, he found a door that was slightly more elaborate than the others - it looked specially reinforced and there was an emblem of a snake carved intricately into the metal. Obviously, this was Orochimaru's room. That left the two doors on either side, both identical. One led to the vessel's room, the other to his closest assistant. While it would be easy enough to ponder this conundrum for hours on end, time was of the essence. He tried the door on the right and laughed inwardly upon realizing that just like the engine room door, it was unlocked. This all just seemed too easy. It was amazing what a difference it made when no one was expecting you.

_If it's the assistant, I'll kill him,_ he told himself as he swung open the door. But the boy laying on the bed inside didn't match Sasori's description of grey hair and glasses. This kid had black hair. And he seemed to be fast asleep.

When the boy's eyes snapped open, revealing coal-black irises, Kisame tensed, bracing himself for a fight. Orochimaru didn't pick weak vessels - they usually possessed some sort of kekkai genkai. But instead of showing hostility, the kid merely rubbed his eyes and sat up in the bed, shooting the swordsman a look of mild annoyance.

"Leave me alone," he muttered sourly. He squinted his eyes as he studied Kisame. "And he's not that thin," he stated.

Kisame was too confused to come up with a response. What the kid had said was baffling enough; what really got him was the familiarity of that face. A few seconds passed before recognition finally came to him. "Sasuke?" he said, incredulous. "What the hell are _you _doing here?"

Both shinobi just stared dumbly at eachother for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. Kisame kept his guard up but didn't know whether or not to attack. "Are you being held hostage here?" he asked. "Wanna escape?" While looking at the Uchiha's face reminded him terribly of Itachi, he had no reason to harbor any resentment on the kid. Perhaps they could even temporarily join forces?

His thoughts dispersed when Sasuke's black irises flickered and turned red. And then suddenly both men were in motion, attacking eachother for reasons neither even understood. Sasuke was quick and agile but woefully unprepared - he barely made it out of the bed before Kisame pinned him in a headlock. At some point, the kid had pulled a kunai from under his pillow; he drove it into the swordman's side but before he could hit a vital point, the older man roughly grabbed his wrist and twisted it painfully until the weapon clattered to the floor. Unarmed, Sasuke struggled fiercely in Kisame's grip, biting and kicking like a wild animal until deciding that the efforts had no effect. When he finally relaxed, he was breathing quickly and trembling with rage.

"You're never gonna beat Itachi that way," Kisame mused, reaching up for Samehada's hilt with his free hand to let it heal his wound. "Now tell me what the hell you're doing here. Did Orochimaru go cradle-robbing in Konoha?"

"Fuck you, asshole," Sasuke seethed. He started to struggle again but froze when Kisame tightened the hold on his neck, threatening to snap it like a twig. "I came to Orochimaru of my own free will," he choked. "I was only getting weak by staying in Konoha!"

Kisame laughed genuinely as he eased over to the door and peeked around the hallway, making sure the coast was still clear. "So you think that hanging out with Orochimaru will make you a stronger shinobi?" he asked, grinning. "You must know by now that he's only keeping you around so he can steal your body and wear it like a suit! And judging by the way you fight, you're _not _getting any stronger."

"I'm aware of Orochimaru's plan," Sasuke grated. "And I'm only weak becuase I'm poisoned with Kabuto's hackneyed medication!"

"That's no excuse," Kisame mused. "I'm poisoned as well but I'm still functioning. Anyway, If you won't come with me willingly, you're gonna have to be my hostage for a few minutes. And I can't guarantee you'll come out of it unscathed." He emphasized the statement by briefly squeezing the Uchiha's neck again, hard enough to hurt.

"Fuck you," Sasuke spat. "Why the hell do you need me as a hostage?"

"Your _mentor _kidnapped one of my comrades," the swordsman growled. "I need some leverage to get him back."

"Who, Itachi?" the Uchiha asked furiously. He didn't struggle again but he was so tense he was shaking.

Kisame rolled his eyes. "No, not Itachi," he said bitterly. "Orochimaru's no match for him. It's another Akatsuki member... and right now, Orochimaru could be..." He trailed off, deciding that it was inappropriate to mention rape around the kid. "Could be interrogating him," he finished.

"So that's why he disguised himself as you," Sasuke muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "When you walked in, I thought it was him... until I saw your chakra."

"Yah, yah," Kisame growled. "I have a lot of it, I know. But I _don't _have a lot of time, so I apologize in advance for anything I might have to do to you." He then slid out of the doorway and crept down the hall, forcing Sasuke to walk in front of him like a human shield. _So Orochimaru is using my appearance to fuck with Deidara, _he brooded. _How did he even know we're lovers? _But the question 'how' didn't really seem to matter at this point. The fact that Orochimaru was disguised as him made him so angry he had a hard time not accidentally strangling Sasuke as he hurried through the lab. Even worse than his anger, however, was a crawling dread that he had simply gotten here... _too late_. What was there to do if Deidara was already dead? He tried to think of an answer but found that he couldn't. The question kept sliding from his reach, too horrible to grasp.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ehrrm... I had a hard time with this chapter. Took me forever! Maybe that's why it was so easy for Kisame to infiltrate the lab - like I've said before, action scenes are incredibly difficult for me to write. Anyway, hope you liked it!


	19. Chapter 19

Sasuke struggled to keep up with Kisame's rapid pace, half-stumbling, half-sprinting through the maze-like hallways to keep up with the swordsman's long stride. His mind was racing as quickly as his feet, trying to make sense of the bizarre situation. Out of all the weird shit that had happened to him in his lifetime, this current scenario definitely topped the list. How damn unlikely was it that he'd see two versions of Itachi's partner in one day, and that the second version was the real thing? It was so ludicrous it almost made him want to burst out in laughter.

The initial shock had been strange enough. And while Kisame's appearance had somewhat resembled Orochimaru's imitation, there were a few differences that stuck out like a sore thumb. If it wasn't for the incongruities, he probably would have been subdued without even putting up a struggle.

First, there was the difference in weight - Kisame was at _least _ten pounds lighter than Orochimaru's version and the contrast wasn't something the sannin could have possibly expected. Who could have known that the real Kisame had literally been _starving? _And while Sasuke grudgingly assumed the transient lifestyle of an Akatuski member to be difficult, he couldn't see it being so trying that food itself became scarce. Shinobi were good hunters by rote - their skills could be used just as easily on wild game as against a human enemy. No, Kisame's weight loss wasn't for lack of food. It was self-destructive, from an illness that could be mental as easily as physical. Which it was, he had no idea. All he could be certain of was that the swordsman was suffering from an ailment. The man's jutting ribs alone were a stark contrast to Orochimaru's slender yet healthy interpretation.

Second, there was Kisame's demeanor. Even upon first glance, when neither of them had a clue what was going on, there was an expression on the swordsman's face that he'd never seen on Orochimaru's. It had taken a minute to pinpoint the look as he hadn't seen it in a long time, but eventually it had hit him. It was empathy. Genuine concern. To say it was pity would be a stretch but the way Kisame's eyes had softened had made him feel like a pathetic, abused victim. _Is that how people feel about me?! _he had wondered, horrified. _They feel *sorry* for me?_

The horror had turned to rage - right then he'd decided that he didn't want anyone looking at him that way again. Whether or not it was Orochimaru in disguise hadn't mattered. So he had activated his sharingan, preparing to attack... and that was when the third difference had appeared, much more blatantly than the others. It was Kisame's chakra.

Ever since he'd joined up with Orochimaru, he'd been dutifully training his eyes to see chakra as colors. After nearly two years of rigorous ocular exercises, he was becoming very proficient at it. With his sharingan, he could see the aura surrounding people with astounding clarity, emanating from their bodies like steam. While it wasn't as clairvoyant as byakugan, it still said a lot about people. For instance, Orochimaru's chakra was a toxic green fog that clung around his form like poisonous gas. It was as disgusting as his personality, betraying greed and utter selfishness. Kabuto's chakra was similar yet more pale; the vile green hue was muted by clean, medical white. It was a healer's chakra, distorted by dark intent. Sasuke had also seen the chakra of several prisoners, too... their auras were always hugged tightly to their bodies, visible as little more than outlines of color. Apparently, people subconsciously condensed their chakra when they were afraid.

So when he'd activated his sharingan in Kisame's presence, the explosion of color had nearly blinded him. It was blue... but not a blue he'd ever seen before. Radiant and glowing, there were only analogies for it. It was the way the ocean looked when the sky was crystal clear - countless shades of serene, rippling cerulean. But it was also the blue of a hot flame... a scalding-hot intensity that had made his retinas burn.

The chakra had filled the room like a ghostly tsunami, crashing around Sasuke until he was certain he'd drown in its depths. How could someone possess so much chakra without going insane? Yet at the same time, he'd realized that there was nothing malignant about the aura. It was powerful yet somehow... _gentle_. Virtuous. He'd spent a split second almost wanting to drift off in its calm depths but quickly reminded himself that without a doubt, this was _Itachi's _partner. The enemy.

So he'd attacked. And now here he was, scrambling down the halls of Orochimaru's lab with Kisame's strong arm constricting his neck. The beautiful, gentle chakra that had surrounded the swordsman just minutes earlier had condensed to a cold, crystalline mist, bristling with an icy and very un-empathetic determination. _ I missed my chance, _he realized. _He might have shown me mercy if I hadn't attacked him. _Now, it was painfully clear that Kisame would do whatever it took to get his comrade back. Break his fingers, sever his limbs, gouge out his precious, sharingan eyes. Since Orochimaru was so damn obsessed with his ocular powers, he would undoubtedly relinquish the Akatsuki captive before it went that far. But it was hard to say what would happen... what if the captive was already dead? Kisame obviously cared for his comrade enough to risk his own life - if he found the poor fucker in a million bloody pieces, there was no telling what he would do.

His mind racing, Sasuke tried to figure out a solution to this conundrum. How could he stop this? The solution came to him clear as glass - raiton. Kisame was obviously a suiton wielder so the electrical discharge would undoubtedly _fry _him. Without hesitation, he attempted to electrocute Kisame with his chidori but barely got a crackle of static to escape his fingertips. After a few more tries with no luck, the swordsman laughed dryly.

"Your sharingan must be pretty useless," he mused. "Didn't you notice that Samehada has been absorbing your chakra this whole time?"

And then Sasuke finally saw that his own bright-red chakra was being sucked away by the giant blade strapped to Kisame's back. "Damnit," he muttered, as embarrassed as he was afraid. His raiton had been his only chance at stunning his captor... he'd been so intent on using it that he hadn't even realized his chakra was diminishing. Kisame seemed to be one step ahead of him, both mentally and physically.

"Don't worry," Kisame said. "I won't take all of it away. I need your sharingan to detect Orochimaru. And also, tell me if we're getting close to any other people, will ya? I'd rather not run into trouble on the way."

"Why the hell would I tell you anything?" Sasuke spat, humiliated.

"Because the more enemies I encounter, the more _threats _I'll have to use," Kisame casually replied. "You won't be a very effective hostage if Orochimaru sees you with broken hands and one eye."

"You're bluffing," Sasuke hissed, his skin prickling with adrenaline. "You wouldn't-"

Kisame grabbed his hand before he could finish the sentence and briskly broke his pinky finger, snapping it out of joint with one quick motion. Before he could cry out in pain, the swordsman clamped a hand firmly over his mouth. "I'll do what it takes to get my comrade back," he growled quietly in the younger man's ear, his voice dangerously soft. "Now use your _fucking _eyes."

After that, Sasuke was more compliant. Every time he saw the chakra of one of Orochimaru's assistants, he pointed it out to Kisame and they would either take another route or hide behind something until the aura faded. His finger throbbed terribly... when he looked down at it, he felt a brief pang of nausea. Kisame hadn't actually broken any of the bones but it was completely dislocated, dangling uselessly from his knuckle. It was painfully clear that if he disobeyed Kisame again, his ring finger would be next.

But even though his situation was dire, he felt strangely at ease with the swordsman. Whenever they encountered an assistant's chakra, the older man reacted calmly and was almost gentle as he hurried them both from harm's way. It was baffling - Orochimaru had taught Sasuke to be utterly unforgiving, to use the slightest advantage to crush his enemies to dust. Yet Kisame was doing no such thing - there was no hint of cruelty in any of his actions. He was pragmatic and determined but not malicious. The only word to sum it up was... _professional_.

_I could learn a lot from him, _Sasuke realized. _He would be a good mentor. _But as soon as the thoughts formed in his mind, he pushed them away. _Kisame is Itachi's partner, _he reminded himself. _He's closer to my brother than anyone else!_

The words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. "What's Itachi like?" he blurted. As soon as he'd said it, he felt a flush of embarrassment. He should have asked 'where is he?' or 'what's his weakness?' He'd been a bit tongue-tied since this whole shitty situation began.

Kisame's arm tensed around Sasuke's throat, making the younger man gasp for air. "I don't know," he stated, his words clipped and cold. A few moments passed before he finally loosened his strangulating grip; when he did, he muttered a curse, as if he hadn't even been aware he was hurting his captive.

Sasuke snorted as he caught his breath. "Of course you know," he rasped. "You're around him constantly!"

"Be quiet," Kisame growled. "Now's not the time to be having a damn conversation."

"Oh, come on," Sasuke muttered. "I think you owe me an answer."

For a while, Kisame was silent as they stalked through the halls. Finally, he sighed and shrugged. "He's passive-aggressive," he stated. "In other words, he's an _asshole_."

"Passive-aggressive?" Sasuke echoed. "Like... he holds anger in then lashes out?"

Kisame shrugged again but didn't answer. It was clear he'd said all he was willing to say about it. But just from those few words, it was pretty obvious that the swordsman wasn't friends with Itachi. The way he'd spoken about his partner even suggested that they flat-out disliked eachother. Sasuke had always assumed that the two-man teams employed by the Akatsuki were paired together because they got along. Apparently, that wasn't the case. _Maybe they were just put together because of their skill sets, _he pondered. _Between my brother's ocular powers and Kisame's strength, they probably make for a formidable team. _It made him wonder - when the day came that he fought Itachi, would he have to go through Kisame first? Or would the swordsman step aside and let the fratricide ensue? He had a feeling it would be the latter... after a decade of being around the 'asshole,' as he'd put it, Kisame would probably root for Sasuke! But either way, the thought of having to battle the swordsman to the death unnerved him even more than fighting his brother. There was no doubt that the man knew how to counter sharingan better than anyone else - he'd probably scrapped with Itachi countless times.

His thoughts dispersed when Kisame abruptly stopped in his tracks and tensed. "Orochimaru's nearby," he growled, his voice low. "Can you detect his chakra?"

Sasuke focused his eyes and scanned the crossroad of hallways before him. Sure enough, he could see a muted fuzz of toxic green off to the left, in the direction of the holding cells. Orochimaru had a lot of chakra so the aura was more visible than that of most shinobi. "Over there," he said, his voice barely over a whisper as he nodded toward the cells. "And... how'd you know he was nearby?"

"Samehada's bristling," Kisame replied quietly. "It's afraid."

_For crying out loud, _Sasuke thought. _He's talking about his weapon like it's alive! _But when he glanced back at the sword, he saw that it was indeed bristling, its slate blue spines spiked out and shivering slightly. Suddenly, what he'd thought to be an inanimate object was clearly conveying sentience, showing defensive fear in the same way a dog's hair ridged up along its spine when danger was nearby.

"Alright," Kisame growled softly. "This is probably going to get ugly, so I'll tell you in advance. I might have to hurt you if the cause arises. But if you struggle, I'll hurt you _more_. If you punch me, I'll break your arms. If you kick me, I'll break your legs. If you bite me, I'll knock out your damn teeth. Do you understand?"

Sasuke nodded obediently, cold with dread. It was obvious that Kisame meant every word he said. In this situation, most captors would bind their hostage's hands and feet so they couldn't struggle... but the swordsman was strong enough that just his words alone had the same effect as metal cuffs. When they headed down the hallway that led to the cells, the Uchiha could barely make his legs move in his fear.

As soon as they approached the holding cells, Sasuke heard a sound that made his guts knot up. It was a muffled wail that echoed nightmarishly through the hall, like an animal was being smothered to death. _Is that Kisame's comrade? _he wondered, light-headed. _What's Orochimaru *doing* to him?! _

There were twenty holding cells in total, each containing at least one prisoner, but all of the hostages were absolutely silent, too horrified to speak over that terrible, muffled scream. As Kisame tensely ushered Sasuke toward the last cell, the Uchiha could taste adrenaline in the back of his throat. He knew just from those strangled screams that Orochimaru was commiting an _atrocity_.

By the time they reached the last cell, Kisame's muscles were stiff with rage - Sasuke felt like he was being restrained by a stone statue. He had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out in fear when the swordsman suddenly released his headlock and clamped his hands firmly over the Uchiha's eyes. He thought for a moment that the man was going to gouge them from their sockets.

"You don't need to see this," Kisame growled in his ear. With that said, he took a step back, clutched Sasuke's head close to his chest, and kicked the cell door. The Uchiha heard the grating squeal of the metal hinges breaking, followed by a loud, jarring thud as the slab of steel crashed to the cement floor.

_These doors are reinforced, _Sasuke marveled. _ Kisame's fucking strong! _His thoughts quickly evaporated when he heard that horrendous scream again, much louder without the soundproofing of the door. Strangled, animalistic, terrified. And although it was louder, it was still muffled, like there was something blocking the poor fucker's mouth.

Kisame's hands trembled and his breath quickened - Sasuke could feel the rapid rise and fall of the man's chest against the back of his head. _What the hell does he see? _the Uchiha wondered. Even through the swordsman's hands, he could see Orochimaru's chakra mingling with a dim, orange aura, the strong, putrid green interwining and overpowering the little glow of sunset.

It looked and sounded as though the captive was being raped. Suddenly, Sasuke was glad Kisame had covered his eyes.

X X X

For a moment, Kisame was too appalled to speak. He'd been expecting something terrible but the bloody scene before him stole the words from his mouth. Deidara was cuffed to the wall and bleeding profusely from his wrists but nonetheless, he was struggling madly, worsening the wounds in his fear until it looked as though he'd nearly sawed the flesh through to the bone. His shin was also bleeding - it had a splint on it but blood was seeping right through the material. And Orochimaru was clearly getting ready to _rape _him, one hand clamped over the blonde's mouth to muffle his screams, the other hand pulling off his grey, prison-issue shorts. What made it even worse was the fact that the sannin had transformed himself to look like Kisame, although the muscular form he'd taken was a far cry from the swordsman's current emaciated state. Either way, Kisame felt as though he was looking at a warped mirror that reflected his darkest thoughts.

_The first time I screwed Deidara, I practically forced myself on him, _he remembered. But the blonde had enjoyed being roughed up - if he hadn't, Kisame definitely would have stopped. And it was obvious that Deidara _wasn't _enjoying Orochimaru's screwed up idea of foreplay... his cock was limp and tears were streaming down his face. Judging by his glazed, dilated eyes, he didn't even know what was going on. _Orochimaru gave him that fucking truth serum, _the swordsman realized. _He's out of his damn mind._

All of these thoughts whirled through Kisame's mind in just a few split seconds. When Orochimaru turned to face him, slack-jawed with astonishment, the swordsman found his voice quickly enough. "What the fuck is the matter with you?" he grated, using a huge amount of restraint to keep himself from screaming. "Get the fuck _off _him! And undo that goddamn transformation jutsu! It doesn't even _look _like me!"

"No shit," Orochimaru muttered, obediently reverting to his true form and taking his hands off Deidara. "You're thin as a rail! Are you annorexic or something?"

"Don't change the subject," Kisame growled. "Let Deidara go or else I'll rip out this kid's eyes." He emphasized the fact by pressing his fingers into Sasuke's eyesockets until the boy cried out in pain. "And I'd like to see you find sharingan somewhere else," he stated.

Orochimaru cursed, panicked, and unlocked Deidara's cuffs in what had to be a record amount of time. Sasori had been right in assuming that the vessel would be the sannin's weak point. Once uncuffed, Deidara stopped his screaming and listlessly slumped to the ground, his eyes wide open yet unseeing.

"Just how the hell did you get in here?" the sannin asked suspiciously, his gaze darting from Kisame's face to Sasuke's. "The entrance is sealed with an illusion jutsu-"

"He _swam _here, you idiot," Sasuke barked, cutting his mentor off. "He has fucking gills!" A few prisoners in nearby cells started laughing, overhearing the loud interjection.

"Those gills don't work," Orochimaru snapped, humiliated. "Do they?" Kisame merely shrugged, not willing to divulge any information. "And either way," the sannin continued, "This lab is _miles _out to sea! How the hell did you even find it?!"

Kisame shrugged again, growing impatient. He wanted to get out of this hellhole. "Our mission was to scan the land for the place," he stated curtly. "If you hadn't captured Deidara, we wouldn't have even checked the damn ocean."

It was Orochimaru's turn to shrug. "It's Deidara's fault, you know," he replied, gesturing at the bloody heap beside him. "He was flying so low, I could see the pattern on his robe! I was just taking a stroll, minding my own business... but I couldn't pass up such an opportunity. You Akatsuki aren't usually so easy to capture. I figured I'd get some information from him before, I don't know..."

"Before raping him?!" Kisame interjected, furious. "And either way, he's one of our newest members! He doesn't even know anything!" He looked down at Deidara and wondered if what the sannin had said was true. Was it really the blonde's fault they were all in this mess?

"Oh, he knew a few interesting things," Orochimaru said, grinning. "He told me Itachi subdued you and had his way with you. I think just hearing that was worth the effort... I thought I was the only one!"

"He was obviously making that up," Kisame snapped, mortified. "Because that never happened. And what was that about, you not being the only one?!" He'd always had his suspicions that Orochimaru had screwed him while he was passed out all those years ago. Ever since then, the sannin had looked smug around him, his snakelike eyes glinting with some sort of inner triumph. And now, that smug expression had returned, making Kisame's stomach clench with revulsion.

"I thought you already knew," Orochimaru mused. "Isn't that why you beat the shit out of me for no reason?"

"I beat the shit outta you cuz I _hate _you," Kisame seethed. "And now I hate you even more, you perverted _asshole_!" It took him every ounce of willpower he possessed not to toss Sasuke aside and pounce on the sannin. He had to force himself to remember that escaping this lab with Deidara was the mission, not beating up Orochimaru. He sighed and cursed under his breath. "Pick up Deidara and follow me out. I'm not letting Sasuke go until I'm in the clear, understand? And if you try anything, I'll make sure to rip out both his eyes before going after _you_."

"Fine," Orochimaru said tersely, even though there was nothing fine about the situation. "But the second we make the trade, I'm going to kill you in the most sadistic way possible." He warily scooped up Deidara, who seemed to be paralyzed with his own insane hallucinations, and gave Kisame an impatient nod.

They reached the hatch in the machinery room floor with barely a hitch. At one point, Kabuto had nearly taken Kisame by surprise, but Sasuke had seen the man's chakra just in time to say 'behind you.' After one well-placed kick, the medic had crashed to the ground, instantly unconscious. Kisame found it darkly amusing that the Uchiha was helping him, even though he didn't have to. After hearing the heated exchange of words in the holding cells, the boy no doubt thought quite a bit less of his mentor.

Once he was standing by the hatch, the tension was so high it felt like electricity in the air. Kisame was acutely aware of everything, from the hum of the machinery, to Sasuke's nervous, quick breathing, to the enraged, almost insane expression on Orochimaru's pale face. It was obvious the sannin did _not _like getting played for a fool... but at the moment, he was the biggest fool in the shinobi world, leaving his lab unguarded and allowing his precious vessel to be captured.

"Give me Deidara," Kisame demanded, "And I'll give you Sasuke." He hoped, at least, that the sannin would remember he was a man of his word. The exchange happened quickly and without words; in the split second afterwards, both shinobi were forming handsigns, preparing to attack. Luckily for Kisame, his handsign was a single gesture. He released his water shockwave jutsu just in time to see the furious expression on Orochimaru's face. Machinery crackled and hissed as the giant wave of water hit the room; the sannin was so bent on protecting his vessel from the chaos, he didn't even have time to stop Kisame as he slipped through the hatch with Deidara in tow.

Once out of the lab's claustrophopic confines, the swordsman felt a weird elation in returning to the ocean's vast expanse. He gave the building one last glance to find his shockwave jutsu doing its job, the lights in the circular windows flickering off one by one as the water crashed violently through the halls. Hopefully, some of the prisoners would use the chaos to make their escape. As for the others, at least they'd die without being subjected to any more of Orochimaru's sadistic experiments. Drowning was a pleasant alternative to torture, wasn't it?

All in all, this was the biggest mass murder Kisame had ever commited. He clutched Deidara to his chest as he swam away and forced himself not to think about it. A hundred lives in exchange for one? It was worth it. He just hoped that the fragile thing trembling in his arms was still in one piece.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Is this the shortest chapter ever? I'm not even sure. I was just rushing to get Kisame and Deidara out of that damn lab! I've never constructed something in my own mind which I ended up hating so much! Fuck that place, am I right? Damn. After a few more action-packed chapters, I'm gonna give my poor protagonists a break. They've been though enough! Anyway, hope you enjoyed it... and please leave a comment if you have the time.


	20. Chapter 20

Kisame almost always had the upper hand when he was underwater - his ability to merge with Samehada made him practically invincible. While his foes were straining to see clearly and holding their breath, he was calm, almost peaceful, as he moved in for the kill. The ironic term 'shark attack' came to his mind more than once. He'd had some close spars with his suiton-wielding comrades back in Kiri... but since he'd acquired Samehada, he hadn't lost a single fight when the ocean was to his advantage. The lopsided battles sometimes left him feeling as though he'd _cheated_.

Unfortunately, Deidara's dire state forced the swordsman to stay in human form as he swam from the suiton lab. The blonde was so fucked up he didn't even know to hold his breath - Kisame had preempted this and taken a big breath of air before his escape, which he was now using to keep Deidara alive as he made his gradual ascent to the ocean's surface. Every time the younger man exhaled, Kisame refilled his lungs with his own oxygen supply. It was a weird sort of CPR. They were so deep underwater, the swordsman was afraid Deidara would suffer from pressure sickness if they ascended too quickly, so this process went on for a good four or five minutes. By the time they broke the ocean's surface, Kisame was out of breath himself. He had to kneel for a moment and gasp for air, his head spinning and his lungs burning. At least Deidara was alright - the blonde's breathing was slow and even and his eyes were closed, either because of the briny seawater or because he was finally unconscious. Kisame hoped it was the latter... if the younger man started struggling during their escape, he'd be forced to knock him unconscious. As soon as Orochimaru got his vessel to safety, there was no doubt he'd come after Kisame with revenge on his mind and the last thing the swordsman needed was an insane little fucker thrashing around in his grasp.

The thought of battling a furious sannin and protecting Deidara at the same time made his skin prickle with dread. He got to his feet and started running to the shore, slinging the blonde over his shoulder. They were so far out to sea that the jagged, rocky shoreline was little more than a sandy strip stretched over the blue bulk of the ocean. He hadn't realized that the lab was this far away; it hadn't seemed as distant getting to the place underwater.

Minutes ticked by as he sprinted to the shore, punctuated by nothing but the gentle pulse of the ocean and his own quick breathing. The mid-afternoon weather was mild and sunny but the peaceful atmosphere was strangely foreboding - the calm before the storm, perhaps? As he ran, he couldn't help but think that for the first time in his life, his enemy was the shark and he was the prey.

Nearly ten minutes passed without incident. Kisame was beginning to think that perhaps the sannin had opted to save his prisoners instead of seeking revenge - it would be the more sensible decision. But he couldn't forget the insane, wrathful expression on Orochimaru's face before the water shockwave had swept him away... as far as he could remember, he'd never seen the sannin look so angry. No, there was no doubt that the man was coming for him. He could only hope that he'd gotten enough of a headstart to reach the shore before Orochimaru caught up with him.

Suddenly, Samehada began to growl and shiver, reacting to the approach of a vile, frightening chakra. _Damnit, _Kisame seethed. _Just my luck! _The coastline was clearly visible now as a jagged cliff face, only a quarter mile away or so, but when the calm surface of the water began to ripple and swell, he wondered if he'd even _make _it to the damn shore.

_He's beneath me, _Kisame realized. _How'd he catch up so damn quick?_

He looked down to find the answer to his question - through the water's depths appeared a pair of large, reptilian eyes. It was Manda, of course... he'd nearly forgotten that the damn thing could swim. He darted off to the side just in time to avoid the attack - mere feet away, the beast's immense jaws broke the surface, snapping shut hungrily in a spray of sea foam. On the snake's forehead rode Orochimaru, who was sopping wet and clearly furious, clutching the creature's scales with both hands as if to direct its movements.

"Kisame!" the sannin howled, his voice ragged and broken with rage. "I'm gonna fucking _kill _you!" The ocean erupted into a violent, deafening storm of frothing waves as Manda's bulk thrashed to the surface. The scene was so shocking it was hard to even focus on it - Kisame's gaze kept sliding off to the side, his eyes refusing to accept what they were seeing. He'd seen Manda a handful of times but there was something more horrific about witnessing it in the water... somehow, it looked more _abnormal_, like an ungodly abomination spawned in the deepest recesses of the ocean, and its wet scales gave it a slimy sheen that made Kisame's guts clench with revulsion. For the first time in many years, he was actually _afraid_.

_I have to stay calm, _he told himself, slowing down his breathing and heartrate with exercises he'd been taught in Kiri. _If I panic, I'm done for. _He forced himself to think, to analyze the situation. Orochimaru was obviously blind with anger, reduced to screaming nearly incoherent threats. And judging by the way he was gripping onto Manda, the gigantic familiar wasn't too happy about being summoned a second time in one day. _I can manage this, _he brooded,_ I just need to slow them down enough to reach the shore. And Manda may be big... but I still have the advantage here! I'll be damned if anyone defeats me on my own turf!_

Of course, fighting with Deidara's deadweight slung over one shoulder was like fighting with one hand tied behind his back - if it was anyone else, he'd probably drop their useless ass and watch them sink. But then again, if it was anyone else, he wouldn't have risked his life in the first place. He found it oddly comforting that even if he died, he'd die trying to save someone dear to him. The thought gave him a bit of inner peace as he braced himself for battle.

He had the ocean to his advantage so he used it to its full potential, manipulating the waves to block the sannin's attacks from above and summoning sharks to counter-attack below. Sution-style bombs, projectiles, water prisons... he used everything he could possibly throw at Orochimaru and his familiar to slow them down. If it wasn't for Deidara's limp body slung over his shoulder, he probably could have gone another step and inflicted some serious damage. As it was, however, it was all he could do to prevent Manda from swallowing him whole. The snake was viciously fast in the water, slithering through it with surprising agility. Kisame had a feeling that Orochimaru had been working with the beast to improve its swimming skills, feeding it prisoners here and there as a reward. And it was glaringly obvious that Manda's reward this time would be eating Kisame and Deidara - the way it was attacking, it seemed to have no intention of live capture.

Kisame wasn't even sure how he did it but somehow, he reached the coast. He was so focused on fighting his opponents that getting to the cliff face had become secondary to surviving. He'd suffered a few injuries - snake bites from Orochimaru's jutsu - and while he couldn't feel the poison yet, he was almost certain the antivenom pill Sasori had given him had worn off by now. Either way, he was hoping beyond hope that the puppetmaster had done his part of the bargain and set some traps... because he was running out of time and adrenaline.

It wasn't until he scaled the cliff that he saw the traps. Puppets were hidden all along the jagged, vertical ridge, their earth-toned cloaks blending perfectly with the sandstone. When he reached the summit, he barely had time to see Manda's jaws a hairwidth from his skin before the traps set into motion.

The chatter of artificial limbs was the first thing he heard, followed by a strangled hiss. Manda seemed to freeze in mid-air as if suspended in time, its jaws tensing with shock and dripping venom. When Kisame glanced down the cliff face, he saw that the puppets had sprung to life, surrounding the snake like a swarm of angry bees. It didn't make sense... the puppets weren't attacking. How were they subduing Manda?

The trip wire was so thin that the swordsman didn't even realize it was there until it began cutting into Manda's flesh, zipping up under its scales and pulling tighter and tighter until blood began pouring down the creature's sides. The snake writhed and hissed, churning the ocean into a froth of bright red. What had seemed like an unruly swarm was now a fluid maneover, pairs of puppets connected by the near-invisible wire.

"Orochimaru!" it rumbled, agonized and furious. "I'm eating _you _next!" And then it was gone in a puff of smoke, summoning itself away before the trip wire sawed it into a million bloody pieces. For a moment, Kisame was slack-jawed with awe, wondering how the hell he'd beaten Sasori earlier when the man was obviously such a tactical _genius_. It wasn't until he saw Orochimaru emerge from the bloody froth of the ocean that he remembered he was supposed to keep running.

_North. I gotta run north,_ he told himself as he sprang into motion and headed for the cover of the forest. Sasori was obviously nearby but he saw no sign of the redhead anywhere - the only thing that betrayed the man's presence was the chattering of the puppets, which were now directed in full force on the sannin.

As Kisame ran, he heard Sasori's attacks more than he saw them - loud, jarring explosions from paper bombs, the earth-rattling booms of mines, the hiss of trip wire being pulled tight. The few times he dared a glance back, the forest behind him was a warzone, erupting with smoke and flame. Not once did he see Orochimaru but he'd occasionally hear the sannin's enraged screams. "Kisame! Sasori! You're both fucking _dead!_"

After about fifteen minutes of this, the sounds began to fade. The eruptions seemed to occur further and further back, and Orochimaru's hysterical shouts became less intense, muted with distance. Fifteen more minutes and there was wasn't any sound at all.

"Can you believe it?" Sasori's voice jarred Kisame so badly, he nearly stumbled and went crashing to the ground. "I think we outran him!" The swordsman gazed wildly around to find his comrade running right next to him, wearing one of his puppet's earth-toned robes.

"Damnit Sasori," he gasped, his voice more ragged than he'd been expecting. "You scared the _hell _outta me. Where've you been this whole time?"

The redhead laughed, grinning. "All over," he said feverishly, eager to explain his genius ploys. "In front of you, behind you. Manipulating the traps. I put my Akatsuki cloak on one of my puppets and used it as a decoy - Orochimaru was so pissed off, he didn't even realize it! He fell into almost every trap I set up! He's fucked up so bad, he'll have to shed his skin for a week... and I lost about a hundred damn puppets. But at least we escaped in one piece!" His boyish grin faded when he observed Deidara's limp form, still slung over the swordsman's back. "How is he?" he asked, suddenly serious.

Kisame kept running, afraid to stop despite the redhead's assurance that Orochimaru was no longer in pusuit. "He's not good," he replied curtly. "The bastard gave him that damn truth serum... plus his leg is broken."

Sasori didn't respond for a moment and his face was completely doll-like as he registered Kisame's words. The swordsman knew that this absence of an expression was really just the opposite - when Sasori was distressed, he seemed to forget how to look human. "The leg isn't a big deal," he finally stated. "Has he been coherent at all?"

"No," Kisame grated, "It's as if he's in another world. I don't even know if he's unconscious or not... he might just be too fucked up to move."

"Damnit," Sasori sighed. "Well, I might be able to do something about it when we stop." Before the rescue, they'd both agreed to flee back up to the Land of Fire, just as a safety precaution... because no matter how pissed off Orochimaru was, he wouldn't risk following them into territory protected by Konoha. Furthermore, there was a hideout right on the coast, barely a mile from the border. If they continued running at full speed, they'd make it there just a little after nightfall. It was a long sprint but it was also their only safe option.

For a while, neither man spoke. What was there to say? Kisame could only hope that Sasori had a chance at reviving Deidara... in the meantime, his own problems were setting in. The painkiller he'd been fed earlier was wearing off and that horrible, pinprick pain was beginning to seep back into his senses. He'd nearly forgotten he was dying from Sasori's poison and, possibly, from Orochimaru's snake bites. It was impossible to tell what was what... not like it mattered anyway. Death was death. And as the pain increased, so did his awareness of his inevitable demise.

As the hours passed, his pain worsened. He found himself wanting to ask Sasori for another pill but held his tongue - he'd seen that lecherous look on the redhead's face earlier in the day and he knew the fucker would just love to watch him beg. _I'd rather die than give him that satisfaction, _he told himself, realizing the blunt irony of the thought as soon as it formed in his mind. Either way, he had no intention of degrading himself. He at least wanted to die with his damn honor, what little there was left of it.

Day rolled into night; they crossed over into the Land of Fire right on schedule. Kisame wasn't even sure how he was still moving... his limbs ached, his vision blurred from a searing headache, and his heartbeat seemed to have given up on a normal rhythm, pounding erratically in his chest.

"Damnit, Kisame," Sasori growled, noticing the sheen of cold sweat on the swordsman's skin. "For the last time, just give me Deidara! You're gonna end up falling and hurting him!"

"I told you... I'm fine..." Kisame rasped, clutching the blonde to his chest. "And either way, we're almost there."

Sasori shook his head, visibly frustrated. He'd been trying to get Kisame to relinquish Deidara for the past hour with no luck. The swordsman's mind was sluggish from the poison and he was bent, almost neurotically, on completing his mission. All he wanted was to get Deidara to the hideout... was that too much to ask?

Luckily for all three of them, the hideout came into view mere minutes later. This was one of the few refuges that was above-ground - it was actually an entire house, abandoned yet still in good condition. Whoever built it must have been a hermit because it was a good ten miles from the nearest village. Nestled on a secluded stretch of shoreline, it wasn't hidden so much as it was simply _remote_. Over the last few years, the Akatsuki had been the only residents, using it as a stopping point between missions. Compared to the cramped barracks everyone usually stayed in, this place was like a vacation home.

When Kisame reached the porch, he realized right then that he couldn't take one more step. Sasori shrewdly noticed his muscles buckle and took Deidara from his arms before he collapsed. The redhead muttered something under his breath but Kisame didn't even hear what it was - he was unconscious the second he hit the ground.

X X X

"Stubborn bastard," Sasori muttered as Kisame collapsed into a sweat-soaked heap on the porch. The swordsman had been suffering from the poison's effects during the entire journey, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps toward the end as if even breathing was causing him pain. _All he had to do was ask me for a painkiller, _the redhead seethed._ I would have given it to him. _But Kisame hadn't so much as even voiced his discomfort, occasionally biting his lip to stifle a cry. _So damn stubborn, _Sasori repeated to himself._ He'd rather die than ask for my help?!_

_Well too bad, _he decided, opening the hideout's door and carrying Deidara inside. _I'm going to help him whether he likes it or not! _He'd made the decision earlier in the day and the sentiment wasn't something he fully understood. Aside from the fact that he owed Kisame for saving Deidara, there were deep, confusing emotions that had ultimately made his mind up for him. He just didn't want Kisame to die, to put it bluntly. The man was his comrade. It would actually make him sad to see the fucker pass away. He had enough regrets weighing him down... he wasn't sure if he'd be able to endure another.

Either way, he was going to have to hurry, for both men's sake. If Deidara continued to hallucinate much longer, there was a chance he'd come out of the experience completely insane. Orochimaru's truth serums were amongst his biggest failures - the sannin never seemed to learn how to properly measure out the doses. While it was proven that a small amount of hallucinogens worked effectively as a truth serum, the ridiculous doses Orochimaru administered did nothing but sweep his victims away into the depths of insanity. For someone so smart, it was bizarre that the sannin couldn't figure out such a simple technicality.

And as for Kisame? He had a few hours, at the most. The poison's three-day lifespan only applied when the victim was resting. Since Kisame had been running around and fighting all day, the poison had coursed through his bloodstream much more quickly, working double-time with his increased heartrate. As far as Sasori knew, no one had ever been active after getting a dose of his poison. The swordsman was a pioneer in this frontier... although that wasn't a good thing, at all. If he didn't get the antidote soon, he'd die before sunrise.

With all this on his mind, Sasori got to work. He dumped Deidara into one of the four bedrooms, then dragged Kisame up the flight of stairs and did the same. Before he could make an antidote for either man, he'd have to find the ingredients... the herbs he required had to be picked fresh, unfortunately. Since it was dark out, finding all of the plants was going to be a formidable task in itself. He found an oil lamp and lit it to aid his search, then ventured out into the forest.

For Deidara, he was going to prepare something akin to detox tea, although the strong brew he was going to concoct didn't really qualify as 'tea.' It would undoubtedly remove the hallucinogens from the blonde's system but it would make him severely ill as a side effect. Desperate times call for desperate measures. _I'll have to give it to him in the bathroom, _he decided. _Because he's gonna puke his guts out! _These herbs were fairly easy to find... they were quite common. It was Kisame's antidote that took the majority of his time - the herbs were more rare and some of them were just _small_, hiding under patches of leaves or peeking out from under a piece of treebark. It would be hard enough finding them during the day. In the dark, it was _maddening_. He had to remind himself that he was lucky they weren't in the Land of Earth or Wind, where herbs didn't even grow. In his homeland, there was no way to make an antidote unless you had a greenhouse.

Lucky or not, it took him almost two hours to find all of the ingredients. By the time he was back inside the hideout, he had to check on Kisame, just to make sure he was even still alive. He was... but barely. His breathing was slow and shallow and his lips were dark blue, intoning that he wasn't getting enough oxygen. If he was in a hospital, they'd have him on a respirator. Unfortunately, they were nowhere near a hospital and even if they were, the missing-nin wouldn't be admitted. Being a rogue ninja sucked in _so _many ways.

With all this in mind, Sasori got to work on the antidotes. Deidara's was done in just a few minutes and Kisame's was done within half an hour. In the past, it had taken him at least an hour to measure everything and correctly prepare it... it was amazing what a difference it made when he actually gave a shit about the victim.

He administered Kisame's antidote first - the swordsman was too far gone to struggle and drank the shit down with barely a cough. Deidara was a little more difficult... when Sasori put him in the bathroom and tried to give him the remedy, he kept his mouth closed like an insolent little kid before finally forgetting why he had closed it in the first place. After drinking it, a few minutes passed before he began to come to, blearily opening his eyes and squinting uncertainly.

"Sasori?" he murmured, staring up at the redhead like it was the weirdest thing he'd ever seen. "What're you..."

Sasori just rolled his eyes. "Toilet," he stated, pointing at the bowl.

"Wha.." And then he suddenly started vomiting, barely finding the bowl in time.

"That's gonna happen for like... an _hour_," Sasori said bluntly. "So I'll leave you to it."

"Wait..." Deidara gasped in between retches. "Where's..." he puked again before he could finish the inquiry.

"Kisame's hurt," Sasori replied coldly. "He may not recover." He'd contemplated how to break the news to Deidara and had decided that it was pointless to mince around the truth. Fact of the matter was, even though the swordsman had been administered the antidote, it might have simply been too little too late. He didn't want to say 'he's fine,' then have to backtrack if the worst happened.

However, when he saw the look on Deidara's face, he suddenly wished he'd just lied.

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Another chapter with no smut, I know. But there'll be some in the next chapter, I promise!


	21. Chapter 21

Warning - I don't know. This chapter's just kinda bizarre. Hetero and yaoi smut, plus some weird hurt/comfort type shit. You have been warned, although for what, I'm not even sure, lol!

Sasori spent the entire night tending to his comrades, pacing back and forth between the rooms like a parent with a couple of sick children. After hearing the news about Kisame, Deidara had spent the next hour slumped over the toilet bowl, crying and vomiting simultaneously. When he was finally drained both emotionally and physically, he had collapsed onto the bathroom floor, too exhausted to weep anymore. Sasori had gathered him up and taken him back to the bedroom, where he'd gently tucked him into bed. As far as he could recall, he'd never done anything gentle in his life. He found it somewhat disturbing that being kind was coming so naturally to him.

The same went for Kisame - Sasori put wet cloths on the swordsman's forehead to ease his fever and covered him up with blankets when he shivered from a chill. The man's breathing had returned to normal which was a good sign, although it was hard to say whether or not he'd make a full recovery at this point. All Sasori could really do was wait and hope for the best. If he was a medic, there was a chance he'd be able to directly remove some of the poison... but unfortunately, he was about as far from a medic as a shinobi could possibly be. Lacking a sense of touch restricted him to basically just guessing at Kisame's symptoms and reacting in a way that he thought might help. So damp cloths and blankets were about the extent of the treatment. He remembered when he came down with the flu as a kid, Granny Chiyo would ease his fever in the same way, so hopefully it was having some effect on Kisame. Sasori hoped so... because if it wasn't, it would be embarrassing to think that he was doting on the bastard for no reason.

_Whatever, _he thought. _Not like he knows what I'm doing anyway. _Kisame was probably off in another world right now, emerged in delirious fever dreams. Sasori wished he could take a peek inside the man's head to see what he was dreaming about. Considering all the shit the swordsman had been through both recently and throughout his lifetime, it was probably something really fucked up. Murder, sex, betrayal. Like a smutty horror film. He was sure that Kisame probably had more screwed up memories than ten shinobi put together.

_He should write a damn autobiography,_ Sasori mused._ If he lives, that is._

X X X

When people have near-death experiences, their life often flashes before their eyes. Regrets, ambitions, the good parts and the bad. In just a few short seconds, one's existence is bluntly summarized. This is who I am. This is what I've done. Someting akin to this was happening to Kisame but since he was unconscious, the flashbacks were entire scenes, playing out in what felt like real time. Days, weeks, months, as if he was reliving his entire fucked up life.

For a while he was a kid again, scrounging a living unloading cargo from Kiri's docks. Ships would come down the river with supplies and he'd hustle up and down the planks, arms full of crates and packages. He was only seven years old when he got that job and he'd been painfully aware that most other kids his age didn't even know what the hell a job was. Pay, rent, tax. All these words became part of his vocabulary when normal kids were still attached to their mother's side. While he was haggling with the captains over his fee, other children were haggling with their parents for a bigger allowance so they could go buy dango or whatever it was that kids ate. Kids were supposed to eat sweets, apparently... but Kisame barely had enough cash to eat millet. He was tall and unusually strong for his age but he was skinny as hell, constantly dealing with hunger pangs like they were a natural part of growing up.

When was the first time he'd tried dango? It was hard to pinpoint but he'd been well into his teens. It had been too sweet and he'd ended up only taking a few bites, wishing he hadn't wasted his money. _It's all sugar, _he'd thought crossly. _No wonder kids get fat!_

His difficult life had made him into a bitter kid. He was extremely antisocial, especially once he got his own apartment at age eight. Moving out of the orphanage was something he supposed was a milestone in his life but he'd felt no sentimentality whatsoever. He was glad to be out of that hellhole full of crying, messed up kids and he hadn't even said goodbye to the assholes who had neglectfully cared for him all those years. What do you even say? Thanks for beating me and starving me? The scars on his back from brutal, unnecessary whippings were enough of a reminder. The only good thing he'd taken away from that place was a crash-course in self-defense, paired with an ability never to cry... because crying meant getting whipped, of course. In fact, this abuse had been the catalyst that had caused him to leave. The last time someone had tried to beat him, he'd lashed out and kicked the fucker right in the groin. The man had slumped to the ground and Kisame had kicked him several more times until blood was pouring from his mouth. He'd ended up hospitalized from internal hemmoraging and Kisame had left the next day of his own will. While the authorities couldn't exactly reprimand him for defending himself, it was clear that he'd worn out his welcome. All for the better. Fuck that place! He'd been saving up for an apartment anyway so it was a good excuse to finally take the step and leave.

Once moved into his apartment, some of the kids from the orphanage had come to his doorstep, begging to move in. He'd curtly told them to fuck off and get a job before slamming the door in their face. He had no desire to share his hard-earned space with freeloaders... he just wanted to be _alone_.

And so he was. Human beings were normally social animals but after years in such close quarters with other kids, Kisame became an anomaly. He didn't want to be around _anyone_. When he was at work, he avoided conversation as much as possible, speaking only when necessary. And in his free time, he dutifully studied and trained, using his isolation as efficiently as possible. Even before entering the ninja academy, he educated himself in the art of combat, venturing out to the training field to observe shinobis' fighting styles. While he was too young and inexperienced to join in with anyone, there was a lot to be learned just from witnessing the various techniques. He also found that many shinobi would lose their kunai and shuriken in the heat of sparring... after they left the field, he'd sneak about and gather them up. Over time, he acquired an arsenal of used weapons, which he used day and night in his own isolated training.

By the time he entered the ninja academy, he was genin-level, at least. His teachers hadn't understood how he was so proficient at combat and when he'd told them he simply taught himself, they hadn't even believed him. Apparently, self-motivation at such a young age was just _unheard _of. But then again, so was working a full-time job and paying rent. In return, Kisame thought it was ridiculous that his peers didn't have to pay their own way in life. Freeloaders, all of them! Even talking to them was like talking to... _aliens_. He didn't understand them and couldn't make any associations to the way they lived and felt. Since empathy was frowned upon in the school, he decided that this was an asset rather than a weakness. As a result, he made absolutely no effort to befriend his classmates. Girls thought he was mysterious and boys despised him... but regardless of gender, there was an overlying fear that when the graduation came, they'd have to fight him. And it was glaringly obvious that whoever he ended up fighting, he'd kill without batting an eye.

Luckily for the stronger children, the graduation was set up so that the weak were culled from the herd, so to speak. The teachers would pair up teams of three to battle eachother - one strong kid against two weak kids. Sometimes they'd even stop the fights after just one weakling was slain out of the three... other times, they'd let the battle ensue until there was only one victor. It just depended on the students. In Kisame's case, he'd slain his two nervous classmates before the teachers could even intervene. They barely had time to put up a fight before his katana had been soiled with their blood. Weaklings, both of them! And the Village of the Bloody Mist had no use for weaklings.

Lacking parents, Kisame sought approval from Kirigakure itself. He wanted to be acknowledged, praised, verified as an asset. To him, the village was like a neglectful parent whom he had to win adoration from. It wasn't even a desire for a more comfortable life... it was simply a desire to be _needed_. That was the entire reason he'd trained so hard and separated himself from his peers... he wanted to be perceived as useful, like a sharp weapon at the Mizukage's side, ready to be wielded.

When Fuguki became his superior, his desire was fulfilled, just not in a way he'd been expecting. His lack of empathy and combat skills made him an immediate candidate for the Black Ops... although his operations weren't even written down in Kiri's logs. There were people from his own village that frowned upon the Mizukage's reign and it became his job to assassinate them in the most discreet way possible. Figureheads who were planning to usurp, shinobi who plotted to rebel, anyone who posed a threat to the village's safety.

In time, he thought it ridiculous that the village leaders held the title of Kage, as he was the real shadow - silent, unseen, lethal. He lived a double life. Most of the time, he was a typical shinobi, accompanying his comrades on legitimate missions... but on an occasional night, he was an assassin with no name or identity. His abnormal blue hair and skin even forced him to take things one step further and literally turn himself into a moving shadow. He'd disguise himself with black garments from head to toe - balaclava, long-sleeved shirt, fingerless gloves. He'd dip his fingers in ink so that no one would witness even a hint of blue. There were no Kiri emblems on these garments, nothing to entail his loyalties or origins. When he killed a rebel in the cloak of night, the only thing they saw was a thin, black form straying from the shadows just long enough to slit their throats and cover their mouths so they couldn't scream.

The murders were always in the news the next day, distorted as attacks by enemy villages. And while Kisame knew in his heart that his missions were necessary, he couldn't help but wonder whether _he _was an enemy. If Kirigakure was a parent, it was a twisted, horrible person. A cannibal. But regardless of how screwed up one's parents were, the child couldn't help but love them. He loved Kiri, in all its fucked up grandeur. And when he was washing his fingertips of blood and ink, his only thoughts were of protecting his village's tenuous sanity, regardless of the cost. Even though he was an expendable weapon that turned upon his own comrades, he was _necessary_. That was all that mattered.

X X X

Feverish, pained and near death, Kisame continued to relive his life. His horrible occupation as an assassin had consumed his teens, leaving nothing but an antisocial, miserly husk in its wake. He'd sit out on his small porch and watch his peers going about their business. They'd date, flirt, go out to dinner. And while he loved Kirigakure and would give his life to protect it, he couldn't help but think that he'd been robbed from a normal life. He found himself occasionally wanting to submerge himself in the lives of comrades. What would it be like to have friends? What do they think, what do they want?

His answers had come to him in the forms of two people - Mei and Zabuza. To describe the relationships between both of them at once would be impossible, so Kisame's mind relived them separately, each memory painfully clear.

X X X

Kisame's solitude was someting he both hated and relished, so when he got a knock on his apartment's door, he was as riled as he was excited. No one ever visited him. He had a pot of rice cooking, near boiling, but he decided that answering the door was more important than his shitty dinner.

He opened the door and had to clamp his jaw shut to prevent himself from gaping like an idiot. It was Mei... the most beautiful girl in Kirigakure. Standing there, girlishly twirling her long bangs, shifting nervously on her feet. They'd been in the same class back in the academy and he'd always been glad he hadn't been forced to kill her. Not only did she possess a formidable combination of kekkai genkai... he'd just always _liked _her. It wasn't even in a sexual way, so much as it was a blunt respect. During the graduation, she'd done the same as he'd done, although melting her opponents with a gush of lava had perhaps been slightly more sadistic than Kisame's practical katana slices. Either way, she'd looked up at the roster of judges with that same look of contempt as if to say, 'is this what you wanted?' Cool, collected, yet impetuous in the way kids couldn't help but be.

She was strong, level headed... and she was _ridiculously _beautiful. Kisame hadn't even noticed her figure before, as the few missions they completed together, they both wore flak jackets, which concealed breasts to little more than a weird bulge in the thick material. But as he gazed warily at Mei's figure in his doorway, he couldn't help but notice her large, firm tits, which were restrained with just a bra and low-cut mesh shirt. They'd both just turned eighteen and Kisame realized right then that he was attracted to her.

"Hey," Mei said. " I just wanted to talk to you for a minute." She pushed her way past him and sat herself down on his bed, as there was nowhere else for guests to sit in the small efficiency. It was a typical rainy day outside and her sandals left a wet, muddy track on his hardwood floor. Apparently, antisocial assholes weren't worth the effort of showing customary respect. Kisame hid a scowl as he closed the door and glanced down at his own sandals, which he always removed at the doorstep. _This is why I don't have guests, _he thought crossly. _People treat me like a piece of rotten meat!_

"Damnit," Mei muttered, shrewdly noticing his scowl, even though he'd tried to hide it. "Sorry, I'll clean it up." She took off her sandals and began to rise from the bed but Kisame stopped her with a much more visible glare.

"It's fine," he lied. "What do you want?" His pulse quickened as his gaze locked on hers... he forced himself to look away and tend to his pot of rice, which was boiling over, making a mess of the stove. "I've been cooking for myself for over a decade now," he growled, almost to himself, "And I still _suck _at it!"

"You need a woman's touch," Mei mused, grinning. "Why aren't you dating anyone, Kisame? Girls are crazy about you!"

Kisame pondered this for a moment and shrugged as he briskly stirred his burned rice. "I don't have the time," he answered honestly. "And either way, girls are only interested in me because I look weird. They just wanna know what it's like to get with the only _blue _guy on the face of the planet." He laughed, despite himself. "Not that I mind," he added, a smirk playing over his lips.

And it was true... he'd been with so many girls, he couldn't count them on his fingers anymore. They'd approach him after missions, asking him out to 'dinner,' which was apparently just an excuse to get him in bed. He'd never had dinner with anyone! Recently, he'd gotten himself checked for STD's, because his multiple one-night stands were beginning to worry him. A condom could only do so much... they usually broke in the heat of the moment, forcing him to pull out before he got some girl pregnant. Condoms themselves were imports from the mainland, so they were as rare and expensive as they were useless. Apparently, mainlanders had tiny cocks, because the little strips of latex constricted his erection to a painful degree. Safe sex was a _joke_. He'd gotten to the point where he just asked a girl if she was clean, hoping she was telling the truth when she said 'yes.' Luckily, he'd come out negative for the roster of STD's.

"That's not true," Mei said, dispersing his thoughts. "A lot of girls just want to know who you are!"

"Come on, now," Kisame replied. "I'm nobody. I think we all know it." He glanced down at his rice and realized, to his dismay, that a third of the grains were singed to black. "By the way, you're fucking up my dinner," he growled. "Once again, what do you want?" He didn't believe that Mei had come here just to talk to him. No one ever did that... he was _horrible _at holding a conversation.

"I already told you," Mei replied. Kisame glanced back over at her to see that the way she was sitting, her short skirt revealed a little view of her panties. They were white. "There's some things I wanted to discuss with you," she said, suddenly serious. "You're a level-headed shinobi so I wanted to know your opinions on these recent assassinations." She noticed the blunt direction of Kisame's gaze and pulled at her skirt so that her panties were no longer visible.

"Not my fault you dress like that," Kisame muttered. He turned off the heat on his rice and faced her, becoming serious himself. He'd recently assassinated some well-known shinobi and while the news covered it as enemy villages, people were beginning to become suspicious. "I think it's Konoha," he said, crossing his arms. Of all the hidden villages, he hated Konoha the most. Also, it was his rote response when he was asked this question.

Mei glared at him, visibly frustrated. "Konoha and Kiri have a pact! While we're still enemies, we don't infiltrate eachother's territories! You think that Konoha is disregarding this hard-earned truce?"

_Oh shit, _Kisame thought to himself. _She's angry. _He had no desire to battle her formidable kekkai genkai... it would _really _fuck up his apartment. "Look, I have no idea who's behind it," he sighed. "Every village is out for us, so it could be anyone."

"But what would they gain from it?" Mei retorted, her eyes feverishly bright. "Our land isn't good for growing crops, we don't possess any technology, there isn't any-"

"It's a power struggle, Mei," Kisame snapped, cutting her off. "Are you stupid?" He was quickly becoming angry, digging his nails into his arms. "It doesn't matter what we possess, it only matters that we're _subdued_." Fuguki had taught him what to say, even when the conversation became heated. And while what he was saying was mostly a lie, he had trained himself to believe it as truth, becoming agitated when the cause arose. "Villages disregard pacts, sending out assassins-"

"But why?" Mei barked, interrupting him. "These victims were all plotting to overthrow the Mizukage! Civil war would _weaken _our country! Why would the enemy want to quell something that was self-destructive?"

"Shut up," Kisame growled, genuinely furious. "Go away. I'm not a politician, nor am I read up on the assassinations. Either way, what you're saying is dangerous... you'd do well to keep these thoughts to yourself." He opened his door and gestured for her to leave. "Get out of my house," he seethed. "And don't come back!"

Mei shoved her bare feet into her sandals and rose rigidly from the bed. Her hands were clenched at her sides and her posture was defensive, as though she was preparing for a fight. "I think it's you," she hissed. "You're the one who-"

Kisame attacked her before she could finish the sentence, pinning her onto the bed and clamping a hand over her lava-spewing mouth. "I'm nobody," he growled, struggling to clamp her wrists in his grasp so she couldn't form handsigns. "Either leave or die. You have the choice." He had no intention of letting her pry anymore... suddenly, she had become a threat to Kirigakure, which he'd vowed to protect.

She writhed in his grip and bit his hand but he didn't release his hold. Finally she relaxed, slowing her breathing and calming her heartrate with the same exercises Kisame used on himself. When her muscles were no longer tense, Kisame tentatively uncovered her mouth, although he kept her wrists pinned above her head. There were bite marks across his palm, oozing blood.

"I'll ask you one more time," he growled, his voice dangerously soft. "What do you want?" Their bodies were pressed together on the bed... he became painfully aware that her breasts were pressing against his chest and there was a heat between her legs that only meant one thing. She was aroused.

"I want you to tell me the _truth_," Mei seethed, clenching her hands in his grasp. Her large green eyes were narrowed and intense. "I deserve to know!"

"I told you all I know," Kisame replied softly, his gaze fixated on hers. "The conversation's _over_." Cautiously, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Her skin was warm and incredibly smooth to the touch.

"But I-" she gasped, blushing fiercely. Kisame spontaneously cut her off in mid-sentence, covering her mouth with his. It was just too much... he couldn't be so close to her without ravaging her. What had been a tenuous stare-down suddenly melted into a frenzy of lust; when he released Mei's wrists, she grabbed his head and pulled him in closer, twisting her fingers through his hair as she crushed their lips together. Kisame inhaled sharply and found himself submitting to her aggressive kiss, letting her tongue fuck his mouth. The fact that she was so dominant both astonished him and turned him on. He'd been expecting her to slap him then melt him with her lava... but the writhing, hot mess beneath him seemed to want his body more than any girl had in the past.

His hand had a will of its own as it feverishly felt her up, slipping under her thin mesh shirt and digging beneath her bra to cup her breasts. They were firm yet soft, big enough that he could barely fit his hand around them. When he pinched her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, she moaned into his mouth and shivered.

"Your hands are so rough," she panted, breaking the kiss.

"So are yours," he replied breathlessly. She had a shinobi's hands, calloused from using weapons on a daily basis. When she pulled up his sleeveless shirt and dragged her fingertips down his spine, he had to bite his lip to keep himself from moaning like a whore. His cock was so hard it was making him dizzy. Eyes narrowed, he roughly ground his hips, the tip pressing against her panties through the fabric of his pants. Even through all the material, he could feel the moist heat of her cunt, swollen and practically begging to be penetrated.

"Wanna fuck?" he growled, his hand sliding between her legs. Her panties were soaked.

"Damnit, Kisame," she gasped, her fingers grasping his hips as if to hold him still. "This isn't what I came here for!"

"Coulda fooled me," he replied, trying and failing not to smirk. "Is blue your favorite color or something?"

She clicked her tongue, miffed. "All I wanted from you was the truth," she grated, repeating herself in her frenzied state. "I wasn't expecting... this!" She shivered and bucked her hips when he slid a finger under her panties, grazing her slit.

"Neither was I," Kisame growled. "But since we're here..." He rubbed her clit, swirling his fingertip over the hard nub until she was writhing beneath him, her nails digging into his back.

"Fine," she panted, somehow managing a scowl. "But don't think for a second that I came over here to screw you! I'm not a _whore_, for crying out loud!"

_You dress like one, _Kisame thought to himself. It was hard not to say the sentiment outloud. Permission granted, he plunged his finger into her cunt, thrusting into the wet heat a few times before adding a second digit. He knew he didn't have to stretch out girls to ready them for his cock but he enjoyed the way it felt, the tight little tunnel pulsing around his fingers. It was arousing just thinking that there was something made on a girl solely to be fucked. When he finally withdrew his fingers, he slid them into his own mouth and sucked them clean. She tasted _divine_.

Mei's cheeks were a pretty shade of pink as she wriggled to a sitting position and began to take off her clothing. Kisame eagerly helped with the process, pulling her tight mesh shirt over her head and undoing the clasps on her bra with a rather whorish efficiency. When she was finally naked, he found himself staring dumbly at her body, too wrapped up in the beauty of it to even know what to do. She was a perfect combination of strong and slender, her honed muscles softened by her feminine curves.

"Now it's your turn," she said, snapping him out of his stupor. Before he could even oblige, she wrenched off his shirt and tugged his pants down, biting her lip as his erection sprung loose of the fabric. "Big," she said absently. "And _blue_."

"What, did you think it would be some other color?" Kisame mused as he removed his pants the rest of the way. "That would be even weirder, wouldn't it?"

"I guess so," Mei murmured. "But it's still pretty strange. _Exotic _is the word I'm looking for." Her gaze was fixated on it as she tentatively grasped it, her fingers squeezing the hard length.

Kisame gasped and shivered from her touch, which was both rough and gentle at the same time. "I don't like the word exotic," he panted, grinding his hips slightly. "Makes me sound like some kind of... _rare animal_."

Mei laughed and tightened her grip even more until he winced. "That's ridiculous," she replied lightly. "It would mean I'm into bestiality or something!" But the way her eyes glinted suggested that his animalistic appearance was what turned her on. It didn't come to him as a surprise... every girl he fucked saw him as a weird, primal creature who they'd tamed into screwing for one night. The fact that he was an intelligent human being never seemed to occur to them. They just wanted a vicious roll in the hay with a _beast_.

_Fine, _he thought to himself. _Like I could expect anything more from a girl like her! _Mei was one of the most renowned shinobi in Kiri, famous both from her rich lineage and astounding kekkai genkai. She was practically _royalty_. And the fact that she was about to screw Kisame almost seemed degrading to her stature. He was poor, he had no lineage that anyone knew of, and even though his missions were crucial, they gave him no status. He was probably the least acknowledged shinobi in all of Kirigakure.

His thoughts dispersed when Mei roughly guided his cock to her cunt, rubbing the tip against her wet slit. "You still here?" she asked, mildly annoyed that for a split second, he'd been ignoring her. "Or did you forget what we're doing?"

"Shut up, Mei," he growled. "I'm allowed to have thoughts." He felt a random impulse to slap her but restrained the urge. Instead, he wrenched her hand from his cock, pinning her wrist above her head. "You shouldn't even be doing this," he grated. "Aren't you aiming for the title of Mizukage? I think this might soil your reputation."

"Not if we keep it secret," Mei responded, squirming in his grasp. "And obviously, secrecy is your forte." She said it as though it was already implied, as if it would be ludicrous to have a public relationship with him.

_Fucking bitch, _Kisame seethed, furious. _She's no different than anyone else! _To think she would be was just a useless sentiment. With this in mind, he scowled and abruptly slammed his cock into her cunt, squeezing in the entire length with a single thrust. When she cried out, he roughly clamped a hand over her mouth. He was so damn angry, it was all he could do not to smother her to death as he began to pump his cock in and out of her tight passage, withdrawing it to the tip before cramming it back in. It was bizarre that she had even managed to make him so mad... he usually took things with a grain of salt. But he _liked _her, sincerely, and the fact that she saw him as nothing more than a base sin made him want to slit her fucking throat. Ultimately, he was just sick of being used.

His rage mixed with lust as he mercilessly pounded his cock into her, ignoring her muffled moans against his palm. Even though she was afraid, she was equally aroused, dripping wet and writhing her hips to meet his thrusts. Her free hand was groping him wildly, clawing at his back, his thighs, his ass. When he finally released his hold on her mouth and wrist, she roughly yanked his hair to crush their lips together, breathing a curse that sounded like 'you fucking _animal!_'

Everything after that was just a wet, horny blur. Mei wanted an animal so he became one, marring her perfect skin with his sharp teeth, biting her neck until he drew blood. Even though this tryst was supposed to be secret, he wanted to leave his mark on her. He'd get great satisfaction in the weeks to come, watching her walk around wearing a turtleneck to hide her wounds instead of her usual slutty wardrobe.

"You're such an asshole, Kisame," she gasped, clamping her legs around his waist in a vice-like grip as she neared climax.

"And you're a bitch," Kisame sneered. The smell and taste of her blood pushed him over the edge - they came simultaneously, Kisame barely pulling out of her pulsing cunt in time to spill his seed on her stomach. His cock still twitching with the throes of orgasm, he dipped his fingers in the puddle of cum and fed it to her, wanting her to taste it. She eagerly obliged, sucking them clean with a surprising hunger.

_I should have just come inside her, _he thought listlessly. _Made her fucking pregnant with an illegitimate blue child. _But as his orgasm faded, so did his bizarre rage. Exhausted, he laid down next to her, absently mopping the cum off her bare stomach with his discarded shirt. She sighed and nestled up to him, using his shoulder as a pillow. He felt uncomfortable sleeping so close to her... it was almost too intimate. But his anxieties waned to a strange comfort as he drifted off to sleep. It was nice to be at her side, even if it was just for one night.

When he woke up in the morning, she was gone. No note, no stray garments, nothing. Bleary-eyed, Kisame dragged himself out of bed and looked around for some evidence that he'd actually fucked her, that it hadn't been a very realistic wet dream. All he found was his neglected pot of rice and a trail of muddy shoeprints. Even though he'd been expecting to wake up alone, it still hurt.

The satisfaction he was hoping to derive from her concealed bite marks never even happened in the weeks to come. He became so consumed with his own life, he didn't see her for at least a month. And when he finally did, he found that he had nothing to say to her. At this point, Fuguki had begun paying him for sex... he felt so fucking dirty, he couldn't even look her in the eye.

X X X

His one night with Mei had been like a fever dream, delirious and haunting. It would come back to him often, making him realize his own fucked up position in Kirigakure's ranks. Everyone just _used _him, whether it was a lecherous, legendary swordsman or a beautiful candidate for Mizukage. He was sick of it, sick of it all. Mei was just proof that no one would ever really love him for who he was. The sentiment was rather mushy but nonetheless, it was constantly on his mind.

But in the end, he found that he was wrong. Zabuza was a fucked up freak just like him, slipping in and out of his life... and although neither man would say it outloud, they _loved _eachother. The love was expressed first by the clash of weapons on the training field, followed by the nervous meeting of lips. When Fuguki had stepped in and coerced Kisame into becoming his whore, Zabuza had perhaps been the only person who knew or cared about the trysts. He became violently angry that Kisame had been stolen from him, expressing his rage during sparring matches. He'd actually slapped Kisame once and shouted, 'snap out of it!'

But Kisame wasn't able to snap out of it. Fuguki consumed him, using him up until there was nothing left for anyone else. When the man started getting fat, Kisame had wondered if he'd be forced to fuck him for the rest of his life... the possession of a disgusting old pervert with too much political sway to ever escape from. Luckily, Fuguki's sex drive had dwindled along with his obesity. He got embarrassed about his weight and resorted to having Kisame just suck him off fully clothed before finally dismissing him with no sentimentality whatsoever.

"You're getting too old," he'd said. "You're not my taste anymore."

_The feeling's mutual, _Kisame had thought to himself, furious. _You were never my taste!_

And that was that. Even though he'd ceased being attracted to Fuguki for months, he felt a cold despair that in a way, he'd been dumped. If Mei had trampled his heart, Fuguki had fucking _stomped _on it. He found himself drinking far more than usual in the months that ensued, sitting on his porch and just hating himself. _I got kicked to the curb by a fat old man, _he'd repeat to himself over and over. _Am I really that damn useless?_

He'd nearly forgotten about his relationship with Zabuza. The man was becoming quite legendary, having acquired the executioner's blade... he had his own squad of elite shinobi who accompanied him on missions all over the five great nations. _Legitimate _missions that were percieved as heroic. When he'd get back into town, there'd always be some fanfare... girls swooning, men cheering. And all the while, Kisame would complete his dirty missions, utterly nameless. It was darkly amusing that Zabuza had once perceived him as a mentor, begging for his advice on swordwielding and suiton. He was jealous of his comrade but ultimately, he was proud. It was somewhat comforting to think that at least one of them had amounted to something.

Zabuza was even becoming a candidate for Mizukage! Kisame hoped that when the time came, he'd win against Mei. The sentiment was rather selfish... he just wanted Mei to lose because of their one-night stand. Cold-hearted bitch! He should have gotten her pregnant! Thanks to her, he'd gotten crabs, which had been a pain in the ass to get rid of.

Needless to say, he was surprised when Zabuza showed up at his doorstep one rainy evening. Kisame was stumbling drunk, barely able to answer the door. When he saw that it was Zabuza standing there, he had to do a double-take, squinting his eyes blearily.

"What's up, fucker?" Zabuza taunted, grinning under his bandages. "You gonna let me in?"

"Shit," Kisame slurred, stepping aside so the younger man could enter. "Thought you were a _ghost_."

"It's been a while, I know," Zabuza replied. "I've been busy, what can I say?" Kisame noticed that the man respectfully removed his sandals before treading onto his hardwood floor.

"It's been months," he growled, shutting the door behind him. "Shit, how have you been?" He had a half-full bottle of strong sake sitting on his kitchen counter but when he tried to grab it, Zabuza snatched it away.

"Damnit Kisame, you're a fucking _wreck_," the man stated bluntly, his narrow eyes scanning his comrade up and down. "Did you get _thinner? _How is that even possible?!"

Kisame glanced down at himself, his vision blurred. Indeed, he was wasting away a bit, his already lean form more wiry than usual. "I've been having stomach problems," he lied, embarrassed. "Can't hold anything down." He realized that Zabuza was actually bigger than him for once, his muscles bulging under his long-sleeved shirt. The revelation was depressing. Ever since Fuguki had tossed him aside, he'd just been forgetting to eat, too damn listless to cook for himself.

"And you're also shitfaced," Zabuza growled. "Since when do you drink?" He passively watched the dismayed expression on Kisame's face as he emptied the bottle of sake into the sink.

"I don't have a mission tomorrow," Kisame retorted, riled. "So it doesn't matter."

"Shinobi aren't supposed to get fucking drunk," Zabuza seethed. "That's like... the _first rule_."

"If you came here to lecture me, you should just leave," Kisame snapped. "I'm in no mood!" He inhaled sharply when Zabuza's hand suddenly shot out and encircled his neck.

"I'm worried about you, asshole," the younger man stated, his voice dangerously soft. "Everyone is. When I got back into town, the rumor mill was all abuzz with how you just sit up here all alone, starving yourself and getting _hammered_. What the hell is your problem? You're the Monster of the Hidden Mist, for crying out loud!"

Kisame scowled and roughly pried Zabuza's hand from his neck. "Leave me alone," he growled. "I don't need this! And you're just verifying the truth... people are content to watch me rot! Not once did any of these assholes come up here and ask me how I'm doing!" He realized that he was being dramatic in his drunkenness but he didn't care.

"_I'm _here," Zabuza replied bluntly. "And I'm _not _content to watch you rot, you skinny bitch." When he reached out for Kisame again, the older man bristled but didn't resist. "I know this is about Fuguki," he said, running his fingertips over the sensitive gill marks on Kisame's cheek. "But you should be happy he finally let you go. He treated you like shit."

"Shut up, Zabuza," Kisame grated, leaning into the caress despite himself. The younger man had always known how to touch him in a way that made him melt. "The last thing I want to discuss is Fuguki. Just thinking about him makes me fucking ill." He sighed and bit his lip when Zabuza's fingers trailed down to his neck, then his chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He wasn't wearing a shirt and his bare skin almost ached, desperate for attention after months of isolation.

"Then you must think about him a lot," the younger man said softly. "Because you're very ill. Keep this up and you'll die." His blunt words paired with his gentle touch made Kisame's throat tighten and his vision blur even more. He realized that he was on the verge of tears and scowled, horribly ashamed.

"Please just leave me alone," he rasped, although his body did nothing to emphasize the statement, arching into Zabuza's touch as the man's calloused fingers sunk down further to the waistline of his pants. "I can't talk about this!" he pleaded. His breath hitched when Zabuza found his growing erection and stroked it gently through his pants. It was ludicrous to think that the man could make him hard from so little contact. He cursed under his breath and stumbled, his back hitting the wall behind him.

"You don't have to talk," Zabuza growled, his voice barely above a whisper. "In fact, don't you worry about a thing. I'm gonna take a leave from work and stay here with you until you get better... and there's nothing you can say or do to stop me." He pressed his body up against Kisame's, pinning him against the wall. "I've been patiently waiting for my turn with you and I'll be damned if you deprive me of it by _wasting away_," he said, his dark eyes narrowed and intensely bright. "Although I must confess, you're pretty sexy when you're this skinny. You're a hot mess."

Kisame felt a grin tug his lips despite the fact that he was on the verge of breaking down. "You have such a way with words," he replied, his voice as weak as his legs, which were threatening to buckle. "But honestly, I'm fine. You don't need to help me, Zabuza. That's just... _ridiculous_..." Perhaps it was the booze, maybe it was malnourishment, or it could have just been his own crazed thoughts whirling through his delerious mind, but his vision suddenly tunneled and he fainted right then and there, collapsing into Zabuza's arms.

X X X

When he woke up, it was light out and he couldn't remember anything. His head pounded from a wretched hangover, his muscles ached for who knows what reason, and his eyes refused to see straight, squinting blurrily at his surroundings. _At least I made it to bed, _he told himself, noticing that he was actually under the covers and not sprawled out on the floor like he had been for the majority of the past few months.

"You sleep okay?" Zabuza's voice jarred him so badly, he bolted to a sitting position before collapsing back down, clutching his aching head. His comrade was standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a pot.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he slurred, baffled and riled. "Did we fuck or something?" He and Zabuza had never gone all the way and it would piss him off immensely to think that he'd been blacked out for their first time.

"I wish," Zabuza replied. "You fuckin' _fainted_, don't you remember?"

"Obviously not," Kisame replied coldly. "And I think you're lying because I've never fainted in my life." He rubbed his throbbing temples. "Probably passed out drunk. There any booze left? I need some hair of the dog to get outta bed." He still had no idea why Zabuza was in his house but he was too hungover to care at the moment. Blearily, he sat up and began scanning the room for a half-empty bottle of booze, of which there were usually plenty. When he didn't see any, he felt a pang of dread. He hadn't endured a hangover in its entirety in a long time, quelling it with more sake until he was functional. The few days he had missions (he'd been on the roster less and less since his downward spiral), he'd have to plan ahead and slowly wean himself down. Never, _never _did he go from shitfaced directly to sober. For all he knew, the damn hangover could _kill _him. Alcohol withdrawals were a serious thing. "Damnit Zabuza, I need some booze," he grated, furious. "If you're playing a trick on me, now's the time to stop!"

Zabuza's face was solemn as he approached the bed with a glass of water and some pills. He had removed the bandages from his face and his mouth was a grim line. "Water, aspirin, and food," he stated bluntly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "You're gonna take all three and see how you feel. If you're really that bad of a drunk, I'll go buy you some sake later to wean you down, alright?"

"No, it's not alright," Kisame growled, grudgingly taking the glass and pills from the younger man's hand. "What is this, a goddamned intervention?"

"Drink the water and eat the damn aspirin," Zabuza repeated, baring his sharpened teeth. "Or else I'll shove a tube down your throat and _make _you take it!"

"That sounds fucking horrible," Kisame muttered, wondering if the man was actually serious. He decided he didn't want to find out, so he took the pills and washed them down with the water. He discovered in the process that he was _insanely _thirsty. When the glass was empty, Zabuza got up and poured him another, which he drank down just as fast. He realized that his muscles were probably aching from dehydration.

"And now you're gonna eat some food," Zabuza stated. "Unfortunately for you, I'm a terrible cook." He ladled something into a bowl and gave it to Kisame. It was rice gruel, the shit fed to people who were extremely sick or elderly.

"Damnit Zabuza," he grated, embarrassed. "I'm not _that _much older than you!"

"No, but you're sick," the younger man replied grimly. "Just see if you can hold it down."

_Am I really sick? _he wondered. But when he tried to remember the last time he'd eaten, his mind drew a blank. Days ago, maybe even weeks.

He had a harder time with the food than he'd had with the water. He felt full after just two spoonfuls and by the time he finished the small portion, he was close to gagging. The ordeal left him feeling weak and emotionally drained, painfully aware of how sick he'd become. He hadn't even realized it until now... he'd been too damn drunk. When his cleared mind finally recalled the events of the previous night, he found himself too embarrassed even to speak for a while. He just listlessly stared down at his emaciated frame, disgusted with himself. When Zabuza put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it gently, the contact almost made him cry.

"You don't need to see me like this," he muttered, his hands trembling. "I'm fucking wretched."

"No, you're fucking _hot_," Zabuza replied, flashing a grin despite the situation. "And you'll be better in no time at all. Hell, you're the most resilient person I know!"

"But I'm not," Kisame insisted. "I'm _tired_, Zabuza. I don't think I can do it anymore. Everything is just... _too much_." He was referring to Fuguki, to his missions, to every aspect of his life. He was overwhelmed, simply put. If he was a weapon, he felt as though he'd finally been broken from overuse. It happened to shinobi all the time... they'd collapse from stress and stop functioning. Considering the burden Kisame carried from his assassinations, he was surprised it hadn't happened to him sooner. "People aren't supposed to live like this," he murmured.

Zabuza shrugged, his eyes narrowed with thought. "You don't have to keep fighting if you don't want to," he finally replied. "There's other things you can do with your life." It was weird to hear the vicious man say such a thing... he was always the first to spout the mantra of the shinobi as an unfeeling weapon. Kisame couldn't help but think that his comrade was just lying to comfort him.

"If I stop fighting, I'll become useless," he sighed. "I have no worth to Kirigakure as anything but a weapon."

Zabuza shrugged again and smirked. "Well then, I don't know what to tell you," he said bluntly. "You'll have to make up your mind on your own." He took Kisame's hand and randomly guided it to his cock, which was half-hard, tenting up his pants. "In the meantime, I'm getting horny from looking at your skinny ass. Would it make you feel any better if you sucked my cock?"

Kisame laughed despite himself, a grin tugging at his lips. "You have such a one-track mind," he mused, curling his fingers around his comrade's girth. "How is anything about this situation even turning you on?" While he and Zabuza had never fucked, they'd given eachother head on more than one occasion. So even though he hadn't felt the man's cock in a while, it wasn't something unfamiliar to him, at all. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled it out, enjoying the way the smooth shaft felt in his hand.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help," Zabuza growled, grinding his hips slightly. "Doesn't cum have protein in it or something?"

"No," Kisame replied, laughing. "That's just a myth, idiot. I'm pretty sure cum has no nutritional value whatsoever." He felt himself blush when the younger man caressed his face, running his rough fingers over his lips.

"Well that sucks," Zabuza stated softly. "But I think you should do it anyway. You obviously want to. Look at you... you're _melting_." He reached down and stroked the older man's shaft through the sheets... it was rock-hard. "Should have seen yourself last night," he mused. "Swooning over me like a schoolgirl! It was pretty hard not to _date-rape _your drunk ass."

"Oh shut up, Zabuza," Kisame sighed, his cock aching from the contact. "And sit back a little. I don't feel like getting out of bed."

"Lazy fucker," the younger man growled, eyes glinting. But he complied quickly enough, resting back onto his elbows to give Kisame better access to his erection. His gaze was bright with anticipation as his comrade slipped from under the sheets and positioned himself to suck cock.

"When did I get naked?" Kisame murmured, noticing that he was nude from head to toe.

"That's my fault," Zabuza stated, running a hand through his comrade's hair, gently pushing his face closer to his erection. "I took your damn pants off after you passed out, thinking you'd have boxers on or something. Like I said, it was pretty hard not to molest you."

"Pervert," Kisame joked, eyes half-lidded as he grabbed the base of the younger man's cock. "I bet you copped a feel."

"I might have," Zabuza confessed, grinning. "Maybe just a handful of perfect blue ass." He reached over and pinched Kisame's ass before the older man could stop him. "Better watch out," he warned. "The second you start feeling better, I'm gonna fuck you senseless!"

_Like sucking dick is any more comfortable, _Kisame thought, slightly irritated for no particular reason. But when he tentatively licked the head of Zabuza's cock, he found that he didn't want to stop, even though he felt like crap. He had to restrain himself from seeming too enthusiastic as he ran his tongue up and down the shaft a few times before fitting the thick length in his mouth. Zabuza's cock wasn't quite as big as his but it was still impressive, difficult to wrap his lips around. He realized as he slid his way down how long it had been since he'd gotten with anyone. Months! The last person he'd screwed was Fuguki! His recent lack of intimacy only aroused him more, his deprived senses practically screaming for attention. When Zabuza placed a hand on the back of his head, urging him to start bobbing up and down, he complied eagerly and let out a muffled moan.

"Damnit," Zabuza growled, arching his back and grinding his hips. "You got better at this!" Kisame's response was another moan as he enthusiastically continued, letting the younger man's cock penetrate his throat with each thrust. It was true, he was considerably more experienced at giving head than the last time he'd sucked his comrade off. Fuguki had made sure of it, teaching him to relax his throat and not to drag his sharp teeth. By the time his superior was through with him, he'd gotten so good at it, it was almost _embarrassing_. He had that same efficiency giving head that had so riled him about Fuguki the first time they'd fucked, although with Zabuza, there was no lack of intimacy. When his comrade's shaft became slick with precum, he was so damn horny it was all he could do not to start writhing his hips, fucking his sheets. Zabuza noticed how desperate he was for release and quickly obliged, reaching between the older man's legs and grasping his erection.

The contact sent him over the edge immediately - he came with a few frenzied thrusts of his hips, coating the sheets with cum. Spurred on by his comrade's orgasm, Zabuza closely followed, panting a curse through clenched teeth as he spilled his seed down the older man's throat. Kisame swallowed it eagerly and kept the twitching length in his mouth until it began to go soft. He hadn't tasted Zabuza's cum in a long time and he couldn't help but savor it. When both men were utterly spent, he withdrew the length from his mouth and rested his head on the younger man's heaving chest. They'd never cuddled after screwing around with eachother before... it felt a little odd. But it also just felt _right_. Zabuza absently ran his fingers through Kisame's hair, gently rubbing his head, and the older man let his eyes drift shut, more content than he'd ever felt before.

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* *phew!* That took a while to write! I've been wanting to do some flashbacks for a long time now, so Kisame being all passed out was the perfect excuse. I wanted him to hook up with both Mei and Zabuza... that was my best crack at it. I think maybe their relative ages are a bit inaccurate but hey, somehow they're all at least eighteen, lol!

And yah, fucked up chapter, I know. I wasn't really planning on making it so screwed up, I swear! But you're probably used to it by now, right? Anyway, this was 'part one' of the flashback. The chapter was just getting a bit too long so I gotta divide it up into two parts. Maybe even three, who knows! Hope you liked it! And yes, expect some more ZabuKisa smut in part two. I love that pairing!


	22. Chapter 22

Warning - umm... there's some ZabuKisa BDSM in this chapter. I kid you not! Also, some poorly written angst, at least in my opinion.

The second Deidara felt well enough to stand, he made a beeline for Kisame's room, using the wall for support. Sasori had put a new splint on his broken shin and fed him some painkillers but the injury still hurt like hell. By the time he crossed the hallway, he was sweating and breathing quickly from the pain.

"Damnit Deidara... what are you doing out of bed?" Sasori abruptly appeared from around a corner, startling the blonde so bad he nearly fell over. The puppetmaster scowled and slung Deidara's arm over his shoulder to steady him. "You shouldn't be moving around at _all_," he muttered.

"I need to see Kisame," the blonde rasped. "_Please_!" His voice sounded hoarse and his throat hurt as though he'd been screaming bloody murder for hours on end. The last thing he could remember from his ordeal was being injected with Orochimaru's truth serum... everything after that was just a nightmare. All he knew was what Sasori had told him - that Kisame had risked his life to rescue him, putting himself in so much danger it was nearly suicidal. To think he'd found the suiton lab, infiltrated it, and fought the sannin single-handedly was just _incredible_. But now the swordsman was near death as a result and Deidara's guilt was utterly overwhelming. He'd gone against Kisame's orders, flying so low that Orochimaru had spotted him. It was all his fault!

"Fine, I'll let you see him," Sasori growled. "But he's not doing well. It'll upset you."

"I don't care," Deidara replied hoarsely. "I want to be by his side." He let Sasori help him over to the swordsman's room, his heart pounding in his chest. When they entered the small bedroom, his throat tightened and his eyes immediately welled up with tears. Kisame looked like a _corpse_. He was comatose and his pretty blue skin was pale and waxen, covered in sweat. There was a feverish flush on his gaunt cheekbones and he was gasping for air, his breath coming in shallow, rapid pants. Samehada was curled up at his side, so exhausted it didn't even bother to bristle in the men's presence.

"Like I told you, he's gotten worse," Sasori stated as he sat Deidara down into a chair by the bed. "It seemed like he was recovering at first but now he's regressing. I don't know what to do." The redhead's voice sounded strained and exhausted. When he pulled a wet cloth from a basin and laid it over the swordsman's forehead, it seemed as though he was genuinely concerned. Deidara had never seen his partner act so kind before... to see him this way was more than a little bizarre.

"Well, I have some training as a medic," the blonde said softly, trying to be brave even though he was terrified. "Maybe I can help." He pressed the back of his hand against Kisame's face and quickly withdrew it - it was like touching a hot stove. "God, he's burning up," he gasped, astonished. "Take these blankets off him!"

Sasori silently complied, gathering up the sweat-soaked sheets and laying them next to the bed. Lacking a sense of touch, he probably hadn't even known how overheated the swordsman was. Now that Kisame was uncovered, Deidara awkwardly scooted up his chair to get a better look. He placed his hand on the man's chest and felt his heartbeat... it was rapid and irregular. When he probed further, running his fingers over the feverish skin, he found that the lymph nodes were swollen under his arms and in his neck. "It's like he's fighting an infection," he murmured. "Are you sure you gave him the correct antidote?"

"Of course I'm sure," Sasori snapped, crossing his arms. "I know how to cure my own poison!"

Deidara clicked his tongue. The redhead had told him about the fight, that Kisame had lost his temper and, quite frankly, tried to murder him. He believed that his partner was being honest... after all, the swordsman was quite an emotional wreck. Sasori's sharp tongue had no doubt succeeded in pushing him over the edge. And Deidara also believed that the redhead had given him the antidote. Sasori's empathy was genuine, for once - it was obvious in both his voice and his actions.

"Well, perhaps he's poisoned from battling Orochimaru," he said. "Did you check him for wounds?"

Sasori scowled, looking thoroughly embarrassed. "If you're asking me whether I undressed him, the answer's no," he growled. "I checked him from the waist up and he only has a few scratches. From the waist down, I just assumed it's the same story! He didn't mention anything about being poisoned by Orochimaru before he fell unconscious!" The redhead was obviously humiliated by his lack of medical skills... he was good at killing people but _horrible _at healing them.

"Well, we need to find out," Deidara stated, trying not to sound condescending. "Take his clothes off so I can examine him."

Sasori sighed and rubbed his temples in his typical display of frustration. A few moments passed before he finally complied, his slender fingers deftly slipping off Kisame's sandals, legwarmers, and trembling briefly before pulling off his pants. When he was finished with the process, his doll-like face was insanely flustered, his grey eyes narrowed and insanely bright. "Shut up," he muttered, even though Deidara hadn't said a word. "Not my fault he's fuckin' sexy."

If Deidara were any less concerned, he would have burst out in laughter. He was realizing more and more that he wasn't the only one who lusted for Kisame - the man's exotic body seemed to erect cock like a magnet attracting metal. Obviously, this was more of a bane than a boon for the poor swordsman, who was traumatized as hell from his ordeal with Itachi. "Yah, I hear you," he murmured in response to Sasori. "The guy's cursed with hotness."

Swallowing a lust-related lump in his throat, he forced himself to examine Kisame's nude body. It was difficult to give a proper examination and not start groping. Nonetheless, he found what he was looking for soon enough. Several twin punctures marred the swordsman's thighs and calves, swollen and fringed in black like rattlesnake bites. "Shit," he exclaimed, mortified. "This is what's killing him!" By now, it was far too late to try and suck the venom out - it was already circulating through Kisame's bloodstream. He looked up at Sasori with desperation.

"Damnit," the redhead seethed. "I should have looked earlier!"

"Can you make an antidote?" Deidara asked, his voice near hysteria.

Sasori rubbed his temples again then shrugged. "Yah, but it might-"

"Just do it!" the blonde snapped, his heart pounding.

The puppetmaster scowled and stalked rigidly out of the room. "It might be too late," he finished curtly. "Give me an hour." And then he was gone.

Deidara sighed, his hands trembling as he laid a sheet over the swordsman's midsection. He had to remind himself several times over that it was his fault, not Sasori's, that Kisame was dying. The redhead was a terrible medic but he'd done his best. And luckily, he was genius at concocting antidotes - his grey eyes had barely glanced over Kisame's wounds before reaching a conclusion as to the nature of the venom. But luck was a fickle thing... it could turn to shit at any point. Deidara couldn't help but wonder if Kisame's luck had expired. Over a day had passed since they'd reached this hideout and no normal human being would even still be alive at this point. Deidara gently ran his fingers through the swordsman's sweat-soaked hair and hoped beyond hope that his lover's luck would last just a little bit longer.

"Don't die," he murmured, his body tense with dread. "I wouldn't be able to bear it!" He took one of Kisame's calloused hands in both of his and clutched it desperately. If the swordsman died, he was pretty sure he'd lose his mind. Little splotches of hallucination still dripped and shivered in his peripheral vision, reminders of his own sheer stupidity in allowing himself to be captured. He wondered if they'd ever go away, if perhaps he really was partially insane from the experience. His grip tightened on Kisame's hand and he suddenly began to sob, overwhelmed with fear for both the swordsman's life and his own.

X X X

As Kisame neared death, his vivid flashblacks continued. He relived his life, seeing, hearing, tasting and feeling everything... acutely aware of every last detail but powerless to change any of his actions. And currently, he was trapped back in his young, skinny body, recovering from his alcoholic nervous breakdown with Zabuza at his side. The memories were so painful, in so many ways...

Zabuza remained at Kisame's side through his entire recovery, cooking for him, cleaning his house, reminding him to shower and brush his teeth like a normal human being. Sometimes his comrade's tenacity seemed like too much... Kisame found himself lashing out at the man, telling him to leave. But Zabuza wouldn't. He was fucking _determined_, if anything. He'd been through a life just as hard as Kisame's and if there was one thing he was good at, it was making those around him stronger.

For a while, Zabuza's attentions embarrassed him. He didn't want the younger man to see him weak like this. But in time, he gained a passive acceptance of his comrade's help, realizing that the quicker he healed, the better. Zabuza had taken a massive amount of time off from work just for him, so he supposed he should do his part and recover. When he realized that his self-destructive drinking binge had been a nervous breakdown, it was easier to deal with... he made himself face what had caused him to break and tried to think of ways to cope. Hoping the problems would just go away was pointless.

Their time under the same roof was bizarrely domestic. Kisame had never shared his life with anyone before and he found himself liking it more and more as he recovered. Part of him almost wanted to hit the bottle and relapse, just so the man would stay longer. But he didn't, of course. Either way, he became worried that the second Zabuza left, his absence would hurt just as bad as being tossed aside by Fuguki.

They slept in the same bed, ate meals together, showered with each other. How can you be so close to someone without becoming attached? And while they fooled around a lot, Zabuza never went all the way with him. It was kind of endearing, knowing that the man cared about him enough to keep a bit of distance until he was back in one piece... but Kisame ended up just becoming horny, all the damn time. By the time he was better, he was practically _begging _for sex, becoming aroused just from the thought.

One tepid, dull evening, he was doing some sit ups, waiting for Zabuza to come back home. His comrade wasn't back out doing full missions yet but he was leaving more and more to tend to business. While he knew the man had to get back to work eventually (they both did), it frightened him to think that one of these nights, he wouldn't come back at all. The thought distracted him so much that he lost track of his sit ups... he'd been somewhere near three hundred when he'd forgotten the count. He'd been going out to the training field daily, sparring and honing his battleskills, and his body was beginning to return to the way it had been before, although his lean muscles still looked scrawny compared to Zabuza's brutal appearance. He wondered if maybe he hadn't gotten thinner so much as Zabuza had just gotten bigger. The man looked like an _adult_, whereas he still looked a bit like a gangly teenager. Perhaps his development was stunted or something. He wouldn't doubt it. Even though he was back to eating normally, he'd never been able to hold down the kind of shit that was supposed to make people look strong. Red meat made him hurl on the spot and the one time he'd tried an egg, he'd only taken one bite before deciding that it was the most disgusting thing on the planet. He got his protein from soy and an occasional bit of seafood, neither of which he ate enough of. The story of his life! When it came to food, he was a fuckin' _pussy_, simply put.

When Zabuza finally came home, it was almost midnight. Kisame had passed out on the floor... not because he was drunk, he'd just tried to exercise to keep himself awake and had failed quite miserably, passing out in the middle of a push up. He rolled onto his back and gazed up at his comrade, who looked insanely tall from his vantage point on the floor.

"What're you doing down there?" Zabuza growled, smirking under his mask. "Other than looking fuckin' adorable?"

Kisame grinned and laughed dryly. The way Zabuza talked to him made him feel a bit ridiculous, although it always made him blush. "I guess I was waiting for you," he replied. "But I fell asleep, obviously. It's late." He noticed that Zabuza was a bit scratched up and his forehead was glistening with sweat. "Mission?" he asked passively.

Zabuza nodded, unholstering his giant blade and resting it by the doorway. "Nothing much," he stated. "Just took a while."

Kisame just said a 'hmm' in acknowledgment. He never pried into Zabuza's missions and the younger man gave him the same respect... although Kisame hadn't had a mission in _weeks_! Zabuza had seen to it himself, threatening Fuguki with some sort of leverage that Kisame himself didn't possess. It was a bit depressing that the younger man had more sway than he did in the shinobi world but he didn't let it bother him. In fact, he found it kind of sexy that Zabuza had yelled at Fuguki for his sake. He liked to think that maybe he even roughed the fat fucker up a bit. The two men bitterly hated each other, for obvious reasons. Zabuza even told him that Fuguki had become insanely jealous of their relationship, reduced to barking threats. The younger man thought it was funny but it made Kisame worried. He knew better than anyone that Fuguki never did anything unless there was a scheme behind it. If he was actually jealous, he could become dangerous. Fat or not, he was still a formidable shinobi, both physically and politically.

And if Fuguki really was angry for that reason, he certainly had plenty to seeth about. Everyone knew that Zabuza was staying with Kisame... the relationship wasn't secret, at all. Kisame found it dizzyingly romantic. He'd never been in a relationship before that wasn't concealed from the public eye. And while they didn't hold hands or any such nonsense when they were walking together, Zabuza had a possessive air about him that told everyone around them Kisame was _his_. It was so damn charming, it made his knees weak just thinking about it.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Zabuza stated, breaking his train of thought. "Wanna join me?" He had shed his mask and bandana and his face had a strip of dust on it where it had been exposed.

Kisame laughed. "I don't need one as much as you do," he replied. "But sure. What the hell." Honestly, he just wanted an excuse to be close to the man. He'd been horny all day and no amount of masturbation would tame his dick.

"Well come on then," Zabuza said. "Skinny bitch." He stepped over to Kisame and helped him up, lifting him to his feet without the slightest sign of strain. Their difference in mass was insane... it made Kisame feel rather effeminate, which he didn't mind at all. He supposed that someday his body would catch up with his age and gain some muscle but in the meantime, he enjoyed being Zabuza's 'skinny bitch.' The blunt term had become somewhat of a pet name.

They shed their clothes in the main room, as the tiny shower room was too cramped for moving around much. Kisame had seen Zabuza naked almost daily since he'd moved in but he still found himself ogling the younger man's ripped, tan body. He was just so damn _manly_. Aside from his muscular build, Kisame found it irresistibly erotic that the man had some body hair - there was a dark trail that ran down his abdomen, leading to his thick pubic hair, and a fuzz under his arms. If he didn't shave, he'd get a sparse five o'clock shadow on his face. Embarrassed by it, he shaved it diligently, but Kisame thought it was fuckin' hot. All _he _had was a little blue triangle on his crotch! Going through puberty, he'd glared down at the little patch day after day, thinking 'that's it?!'

Zabuza muttered a curse and popped his back before walking stiffly into the shower room and turning on the water. Knowing his comrade was probably exhausted, Kisame resisted the urge to throw himself at the man like a bitch in heat, instead trailing meekly behind. He couldn't help what his cock did, though... it was already half-hard. When the water was up to temp, both men slipped into the little space. There was barely enough room for two people but they somehow made it work, usually too horny for each other to care that it was impractical. Zabuza liked the way Kisame's skin looked when it was wet so sometimes he'd just drag him in for his own amusement.

"Damn," the dark-haired man muttered. "I'm filthy." Kisame watched the dirt pour off Zabuza and swirl into the drain. He grabbed a bar of soap and tentatively washed his lover's muscular back, running his fingers down his spine. Zabuza didn't look so bad himself when he was wet... his tan skin glistened under the water, the muscles beneath rippling. When he turned to face Kisame, the older man was blushing a shade of violet.

"What're you doing?" Zabuza asked, cupping his chin. "You ogling me again?"

"You're naked, Zabuza," Kisame laughed. "Of course I am." He looked away, feeling ridiculously lecherous. "I'm sorry... you're probably tired," he sighed. He'd been feeling guilt a lot lately that his comrade had to go out and work all the time while he stayed home and 'recovered.' He was in good health but Zabuza was still concerned, afraid that he wasn't ready to go back out and fight just yet. Perhaps he was right.

"I'm alright," Zabuza replied gruffly. "Compared to my usual life, these past few weeks have been a breeze." He slipped his thumb past Kisame's lips and watched as the older man groaned and eagerly teased it, water dripping from his mouth. Zabuza's expression was horny yet unusually remote, like he was somewhere else.

"What's the matter?" Kisame asked, reluctantly pulling the digit out of his mouth. "Something on your mind?" He looked down to find that the man's cock was becoming hard, jutting out from his dark patch of pubic hair. He bit his lip and forced himself to look away, afraid that he'd piss Zabuza off if he went for it. There was obviously something troubling the man.

"Yah, there is," Zabuza responded, his features hardening with what Kisame hoped wasn't anger. He was extremely possessive and sometimes got mad just thinking about how Fuguki used to fuck him. They'd had a few spats that had gotten violent, although neither man had ended up hurt. "You know how I've been trying to get you on my squad?" he asked.

Kisame nodded. To him, it sounded like a pipe dream. He'd never been a legitimate squad member... his 'real' missions from Fuguki always got in the way.

"Well, every time I work on it, Fuguki gives me shit," Zabuza growled. "Like I've said, he doesn't want to let you go."

Kisame shrugged silently. They'd had this conversation before. While he passively accepted his role as an assassin, Zabuza wasn't having it. He'd been struggling tooth and nail to get the old fucker to release Kisame from his duties. He just didn't understand why Fuguki couldn't get someone else to work under him... then again, he was clueless as to the nature of the assignments. Even high up in rank as he was, Zabuza wasn't permitted access to any details. No one was. The details were in the minds of Kisame, Fuguki and the Mizukage, and that was where they'd stay.

"I know it's not my place to pry, Kisame," Zabuza grated, "but what the hell does Fuguki have on you? It's... it's like he _owns _you!" His voice was getting louder and he was visibly angry, baring his sharp teeth.

"I told you from the start it wouldn't work," Kisame sighed, diverting his eyes. "You should just give up."

"Is that your answer for everything?" Zabuza seethed, moving in closer so their bodies were touching. "Whatever these missions are he sends you on, they're _killing _you! And it's like you don't even care!" The physical contact felt threatening rather than sexual.

"Of course I care," Kisame retorted, becoming angry himself. "I just know there's nothing I can do about it! And it's becoming more and more obvious that you can't either! I would _love _to quit working for Fuguki but I don't have a damn choice! You're wasting your fucking time!"

Zabuza narrowed his eyes, furious. "You think I've been _wasting my time _on you?" he snarled. Without warning, he brutally backhanded Kisame across the jaw. The older man had seen it coming but didn't have time to stop it. The blow split his lip... stunned, he lowered his head and dizzily watched his own blood swirl into the drain, diluting with the water. He didn't want to fight Zabuza. He'd rather get slapped around. The younger man had never bested him on the training field but when it came to disputes like this, Kisame usually just refused to fight. However, this was the first time Zabuza had actually hurt him. He was shocked.

"That's not what I meant," he murmured, his gaze refusing to pull itself up from the drain. His lip hurt something fierce and he wondered how bad Zabuza had split it.

"Damnit," Zabuza growled, his sharp gaze fixed intently on his comrade's face. "I'm sorry. Shit just... pisses me off." He cupped Kisame's chin in his hand to examine the wound and clicked his tongue when the older man winced involuntarily. "It's pretty bad," he muttered, as if to himself. "Needs a suture." He turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Kisame glanced up long enough to see that the man's cock had become fully erect. For some reason, the realization sent the blood rushing to his groin. He immediately became painfully hard, his blue cock sticking out like a flagpole and flushed purple at the tip. He remembered how Fuguki had struck him the first time they'd fucked... how much it had shocked him, turned him on.

"Come here, Kisame," Zabuza growled, rummaging through a cabinet. "Let me..." He trailed off when he glanced back over at his lover, who was blushing fiercely and tentatively touching his lip, squeezing his rock-hard cock in a feeble attempt to make it go down. The sight must have been horny as hell because Zabuza seemed to forget what he was doing, softly shutting the cabinet door and stalking back over to the shower. The towel he'd haphazardly wrapped around his waist slid off his hips and fell to the floor, revealing his rigid erection. His grip was neither rough nor gentle as he took Kisame's hand and pulled it away from his lip. For a moment, he just stared at his partner's flushed, wounded face, as if he was searching for something. Apparently he found what he was looking for - a silent consent, perhaps? - because after the brief pause, he attacked Kisame's mouth like a man possessed.

Kisame moaned, light-headed. Zabuza had always been somewhat of a vicious lover but now, he was showing none of his usual restraint, ravaging his mouth with his tongue and biting his split bottom lip until blood was pouring down his chin. When Kisame tried to touch his comrade, the man grabbed his wrists and violently slammed them against the wall behind his head, growling animalistically. Delerious with fear and lust, Kisame struggled in the man's strong grasp, both loving and hating the way the grip brutally tightened in response until he couldn't feel his hands.

It was obvious that being so aggressive turned Zabuza on immensely. And as Kisame gasped and squirmed dizzily, he couldn't think of the last time he'd been so aroused. He found his hips moving beyond his control, his cock fucking the air. When Zabuza suddenly released him and grabbed him by the hair, he could barely make his legs move in his anticipation as he was roughly hauled out of the shower and into the bedroom. The younger man pushed him onto the bed so hard, it knocked the air from his lungs. Stunned and soaking wet, he could do nothing but raggedly catch his breath as his comrade stalked over to his discarded flak jacket and pulled something out. When he returned with the item, Kisame realized that it was a pair of metal handcuffs. Zabuza's job was often to apprehend criminals so he supposed the cuffs were crucial to some of his missions. Either that or he'd bought them solely for this situation.

_Bondage?_ he thought, light-headed. _Seriously?! _The concept was odd to him but not exactly offputting. He didn't really know _how _he felt about it, as he'd never experienced it before. But considering he had a huge hard-on for the guy holding the cuffs, it was probably going to be _incredible_.

"Lay on your back," Zabuza growled, his voice dangerously soft. "And put your hands above your head."

Kisame reluctantly complied, stretching his lean body prone against the rumpled sheets. He bit his tongue to suppress a cry when his comrade leaned over and roughly cuffed his wrists, looping the restraints through a bar on the metal headboard. The cuffs were painfully tight, digging into his wrists, and when he glanced up at them, he realized that they were indeed professional, requiring a key to unlock. A shiver of lust ran down his spine solely from knowing Zabuza possessed the key and wouldn't use it until he was satisfied. _He could keep me locked up here for days, _he thought heatedly, his heart pounding in his chest. _As long as he wants._ The realization made his cock throb and his head spin.

"This is turning you on, isn't it?" Zabuza growled. Kisame looked over to find his lover glaring down at him hotly from beside the bed, his defined muscles tense with adrenaline. When he realized the man was expecting an answer, he nodded weakly, too flustered to speak. He flinched and inhaled sharply when Zabuza leaned down and ferociously kissed him again, raping his mouth with his tongue and making sure to abuse the swollen split on his lip. When he finally broke the long kiss, Kisame was gasping raggedly and whorishly moving his hips, begging to be touched. Zabuza briefly obliged him by trailing his fingers lightly down his torso but stopped before reaching the precum-slick tip of his cock.

"_Damnit_, Zabuza-"

Kisame's loud plea was cut short when the dark-haired man abruptly slapped him across the face, whipping his head to the side. He groaned deliriously, tasting blood in his mouth from where his sharp teeth had cut into his cheek. Before he could utter another protest, Zabuza shoved a wadded-up mess of cloth bandages into his mouth, the same ones he used to wrap his face. Kisame tried to spit them out but they were packed in too tight, just short of choking him.

"Sorry," Zabuza muttered, no sincerity in his tone. "But I've been wanting to do this for a _really _long time and I don't want you waking up the neighbors. You're loud enough just when I suck you off!"

Kisame rolled his eyes, humiliated. It was true he could get pretty vocal in the heat of the moment, although he had a feeling Zabuza just wanted an excuse to gag him. Either that or the man was planning to do something that would undoubtedly make him scream. Pondering it for a second, Kisame decided that he wanted it to be the latter. If Zabuza went easy on him at this point, he'd honestly be disappointed. He'd been having terrible, masochistic thoughts about getting ravaged by his comrade lately and he was thrilled it was finally happening. Furthermore, he realized with a pang of embarrassment that being tied up and gagged was only making him hornier. When Zabuza got on the bed and knelt over him, Kisame couldn't pull his gaze from the man's hard cock - he wanted it more than he'd wanted anything in his life.

"Not yet," Zabuza growled, noticing the heated direction of his partner's gaze. "I wanna take my time with you... make you beg some more."

_Idiot, you put a fucking gag in my mouth, _Kisame seethed. _How am I supposed to beg?_ But when Zabuza leaned over and ran his tongue along the gill marks on his cheek, he realized that his body was doing all the begging, straining at its binds, squirming wantonly. Zabuza worked his way down, nipping at his jawline before slowly sinking further. When he reached the crook of Kisame's neck, he paused briefly, the expression on his face vicious and intense, before abruptly biting down. Startled, Kisame moaned into his gag and struggled fiercely but to no avail - Zabuza ruthlessly pinned him down and continued to clamp his jaw over the sensitive spot until his sharp teeth broke the skin and sank into the flesh. Growling softly, he kept his painful hold for a few long moments before finally letting go - when he sat back up, there was blood dripping from his mouth. His eyes were feverishly bright as he glared down at the wound, admiring his work.

"I don't want there to be any doubt that you're mine," he stated, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I want everyone to know... especially _you_." He ran his fingertips over the ring of punctures, causing Kisame to groan and shiver. The marks were deep, trickling blood... it would take a long time for them to heal. With all his heart, Kisame hoped they would even scar. He imagined going about his life knowing the mark was there under his shirt, festering and itching, bleeding more when he picked the scabs. A constant reminder that he was Zabuza's _property_.

He'd belonged to Fuguki for almost a year and the bastard never left a single mark on him, afraid that someone would see it and become suspicious. While the secrecy had always been a turn-on in itself, Kisame had found himself occasionally wishing for the man's sharp teeth to penetrate his skin. What was the point of having them if you never used them? Zabuza's teeth had been filed upon acquiring the executioner's blade and it was obvious he'd been dying to try them out.

Kisame's whirling thoughts dispersed when the man continued his vicious foreplay, using his tongue and teeth to arouse and abuse his captive's sensitive flesh. He nipped at the punctures a few times before sinking lower to his chest, where he patiently teased both nipples until they were sore and hard. Liking the way Kisame's skin looked when marred, he made sure to leave bitemarks around each nipple, sinking in his teeth just enough so that little pinpricks of blood appeared. By the time he reached the older man's erection, the slender blue torso before him was a map of abuse, covered in welts and bites. When he noticed that Kisame was struggling to see the damage, he propped a pillow under his head to give him a better view. Kisame moaned against his gag, light-headed. His body looked like a battleground and his cock was weeping precum, throbbing for attention. Zabuza hadn't even begun to torment him and he was already on the verge of release, his balls tight and aching between his legs.

"Looks painful," Zabuza growled, his dark gaze fixed on his lover's wet, rock-hard cock. "I don't think I've ever seen you this flustered." When he grazed a finger over the tip, Kisame moaned urgently and bucked his hips, the brief contact nearly sending him over the edge. More precum trickled down his shaft, pooling in his already soaked pubic hair. Kisame was certain he'd never seen so much precum in all his life. Usually there'd just be a few drops before he came... but this was a weird, male equivalent of a tortured, aroused cunt. It was almost _obscene_. And it was clearly delighting Zabuza, who seemed intent on seeing just how much wetter he could get it. He smirked, baring a few sharp teeth, then lowered his head and licked the underside of the shaft. Kisame groaned loudly against his gag and wildly tried to thrust but Zabuza merely chuckled and pinned down his hips. As he continued his sadistic teasing, flicking his tongue over the tip and licking the shaft but refusing to take the swollen member in his mouth, Kisame felt like he going insane. He screamed and cursed against his gag and his eyes teared up with sheer frustration. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized that Zabuza had been right to gag him - if the bandages weren't blocking his mouth, he would've woken up all of Kirigakure by now.

When Zabuza's calloused, precum-slick forefinger slipped into his ass, his vision tunneled and he felt as though he might faint. He hadn't been penetrated by anything in months and the sharp, sudden intrusion hurt _wonderfully_. His breath was coming in short, ragged moans, muffled against the gag, and if it weren't for Zabuza's free hand still pinning his hip firmly to the bed, he'd be writhing, whorishly impaling himself on the single digit. After this much torture, his mind was melted like a burnt-down candlestick, focused only on fucking.

"Damn, you're a lot tighter than I thought you'd be," Zabuza murmured, neglecting Kisame's cock so he could observe his finger, which was only an inch deep in the passage. "It's like Fuguki was never there..."

If Kisame were any less flustered, he might have laughed. Zabuza had never been with another man and his naivety was charming. Getting fucked once every few weeks didn't make you _looser_, for crying out loud! And while Zabuza's inexperience was endearing, it was also _heartbreaking_. Years ago, when they'd first realized their mutual attraction, they'd vowed to be each other's first (excluding one-night stands with women, of course). Kisame had wanted dearly to hold onto that pact but Fuguki simply hadn't given him a choice. During the entire tryst, Zabuza had kept his hands off other men, seething that his lover was being dirtied and patiently waiting his turn. No wonder he was so damn possessive! And while his reason for waiting so long to fuck Kisame was supposedly for the sake of recovery, there was also undoubtedly an underlying feeling of disgust and rage. Kisame was used property... nothing would ever change that fact.

His thoughts dissipated when Zabuza roughly slid his finger in the rest of the way, burying it to the knuckle. His comrade had large hands - just the one digit stretched him until his passage was pulsing and sore. Zabuza's dark eyes were intense with lust as he acquired a slow, deliberate rhythm, thrusting his finger in and out. Soon, the pain diminished, leaving nothing but desire for more. When Zabuza paused briefly to squeeze in a second finger, Kisame groaned raggedly and struggled against his binds. Fuguki had fucked him a million damn times but he'd been drunk and/or coked out for every single round. Now that he was sober, he was acutely aware of every little detail, from his frenzied, rapid heartbeat to the bundle of nerves his comrade was hitting with every deep thrust. His sobriety paired with Zabuza's sadistic ministrations overwhelmed his senses, consuming him entirely.

"Holy shit, Kisame," Zabuza murmured as he thrusted. "You feel fuckin' _amazing_. I can't believe I waited so long to do this..." He crammed his fingers in a few more times before hastily withdrawing and positioning his cock up against the tight ring. His dick was just as flustered as Kisame's, wet enough with precum that he didn't even have to add any lubrication. Both men glared heatedly at each other for a moment, their hearts pounding, before Zabuza growled and suddenly pushed in his hard length, burying it to the hilt with one single thrust.

Kisame screamed against his gag and tears welled up in his eyes from the pain. _What the fuck, Zabuza, _he seethed, shuddering. _That's not how you're supposed to do it! You have to go slow! _His comrade's thick cock had penetrated him so fast, he felt as though he'd been split in half. When he blinked, the tears streamed down his face, beyond his control.

"Um," Zabuza muttered, glancing down at his partner's abused ass. "You're bleeding. That's not supposed to happen, is it?"

Kisame cursed against his gag and furiously shook his head. At this point, his lover's inexperience didn't seem so charming.

"Well, fuck... how am I supposed to know? Do you want me to pull out?"

A moment passed while Kisame thought about it. Finally, he narrowed his eyes and shook his head again. Painful as it was, he still wanted it. He'd been waiting too long for this to let a little pain discourage him. After all, pain seemed to be central to this weird, sadomasochistic screw. When Zabuza carefully began to work his cock in and out of the injured passage, Kisame winced and moaned simultaneously. Even though it hurt like hell, he wanted _more_. He wanted Zabuza to abuse him, fuck him to shreds! When the younger man finally unpinned his hips, Kisame found his body writhing, feverishly grinding Zabuza's cock. He knew exactly what movements made a fuck hornier... how to angle his hips so the cock inside him hit his prostate, how to tighten himself until the man above him cursed and came spontaneously. Even though he was on the bottom, he finally had some control... and he used it to its full potential, making sure to torture Zabuza just as much as the man had tortured him.

"Ah," Zabuza gasped, his face flushed. "You little bitch!" Whether or not he'd been expecting Kisame to show some prowess in this category, it was obvious he was still shocked. There was a hint of anger on his features, softened by lust, and he seemed more than a little flustered that his lover was so damn good at getting fucked. He leaned over and possessively tortured the punctures on Kisame's neck, growling as he aggravated the deep wounds even further with his teeth until blood pooled in the dip of the older man's collarbone. Meanwhile, his calloused fingers feverishly explored the other injuries he'd inflicted, roughly caressing the numerous bite marks until Kisame's body tingled and ached. When his fingers finally closed firmly around his comrade's erection, Kisame growled against his gag and came immediately with a few thrusts of his hips, spilling an immense amount of seed onto his stomach. Zabuza came mere seconds later, biting down so hard to muffle his own cries that his teeth formed a new ring of punctures over the first. The combined sensations of pain and orgasm were so intense they nearly made Kisame black out. He'd never been so thoroughly drained in all his life.

The same seemed to be true for Zabuza. For a while, the younger man couldn't even move, his chest heaving and his muscles trembling with exhaustion. When he finally lifted himself up and slowly pulled out, his eyes were half-lidded and his skin was glistening with sweat. He stared dully at his comrade's gagged mouth for a while before removing the wad of bandages. Kisame cursed listlessly and worked his sore jaw, noticing the bandages were splotched in blood from his split lip and cut cheek. "Damn, you're fucked up," Zabuza stated bluntly. The words didn't sound apologetic, at all.

"Shit, I'm gonna have to wear a mask for a while when I go out," Kisame replied hoarsely. "I bet I look like a fuckin' battered wife."

"Yah," Zabuza muttered. "You're a mess." He got off the bed and walked stiffly over to his flak jacket, where he pulled out a little key. When he unlocked the cuffs, Kisame wasn't surprised at all to see that his wrists were chafed just short of bleeding.

"And long sleeves," he added absently, rubbing them and wincing.

"You're gonna have to cover yourself head to toe," Zabuza said, smirking. "Luckily for you, it's starting to get cold out."

Kisame laughed. "Yah, I'm so lucky," he mused. "You're just gonna use that as an excuse to fuck me up even more!"

"You're probably right," the younger man growled, flashing his sharp teeth. "I'm already wondering how long it'll take for you to heal so I can do it again." He dipped a finger in the puddle of cum soaking Kisame's stomach and licked it, his eyes glinting. "You obviously enjoyed it," he said softly.

"Obviously," the older man echoed. He was too exhausted to be embarrassed... but it was still bizarre to think that being roughed up turned him on so much. Then again, it was comforting to know that of all people in Kirigakure, Zabuza was undoubtedly the most sadistic. There couldn't be a better match.

"By the way," Zabuza said, dispersing Kisame's thoughts. "I suppose now's as good a time as any to tell you. We both know we gotta get back to work, so..."

_Oh great, _Kisame seethed, diverting his eyes. _He picks now to tell me he's moving out?!_

"...So I've decided that you're gonna move in with me," the younger man finished, his eyes locked on Kisame's face, analyzing. "My apartment's way bigger than yours... I think it would feel kinda empty if I went back alone," he continued. "Plus, I can't wait to see what you'll look like cuffed to my bed."

Kisame grinned, trying hard not to look overly excited. It was exactly what he'd been hoping to hear ever since the younger man appeared on his doorstep all those weeks ago. "Of course I'll move in," he replied softly.

"Well, that's good," Zabuza growled. "Cuz if you said 'no,' I was gonna tie you back up and haul you over there against your will." He grazed a finger over Kisame's split lip. "Now that you're mine, there's no way in hell I'm letting you get away," he stated.

Kisame blushed, enamoured. But at the same time, his joy at the proposition was dampered with a feeling of dread. No matter what, his life was going to be trying in the winter months to come... rebellions were seething under Kirigakure's surface and he knew he'd be the one who was sent out to quell them. Zabuza could hold onto him with all his strength but in the end, his fate rested in the Mizukage's hands. As Yagura's popularity waned, Kisame couldn't help but think that his own missions would become more and more dangerous.

Hopefully, he could at least be content for a little while. Maybe having Zabuza at his side would make the missions bearable. And although he could never tell his comrade what it was he did, it was nice to know that the man would be there for him, holding him in the middle of the night when he awoke in a cold, post-traumatic sweat.

"Hey," Zabuza said, interrupting his turmoil of thoughts. "Let's take another shower and go to bed. I'm fuckin' exhausted."

"Yah, alright," Kisame murmured.

As Zabuza gently washed his wounds under the hot water, Kisame let his eyes drift shut. Worrying about the future was pointless. In the meantime, he was thankful that at least for now, he was happy.

X X X

He moved into Zabuza's apartment the very next day. He only had a handful of belongings so the process was surprisingly easy.

"That's cute," his landlord said gruffly as Kisame handed over the keys. "You're even dressing like him now."

"Yah, yah," Kisame replied, embarrassed. "Adorable, I know." Owning only an all-too-concealing balaclava, he'd wrapped his injured face in Zabuza's bandages. Dumb as it looked, it was better than walking around with a split lip. He absently scratched his shoulder, where the bitemarks were itching beneath his shirt. "Well, thanks for letting me live here for the past... damn, I guess it's been twelve years!" he said.

"I'll miss having you," the landlord stated, shrugging. "You're the only person in this complex who ever paid on time. And you were always so quiet!"

Kisame grinned under his bandages, thankful Zabuza had gagged him last night. "Until recently, I never had much of anyone to talk to," he confessed. Deciding he didn't want to have a mushy conversation about his relationship, he politely said his goodbyes and left, giving his old apartment one last glance. Even though he'd stayed there for over a decade, he didn't feel much sentimentality. He was glad to be out! Maybe now some other depressed bastard could move in and get shitfaced all by himself.

Zabuza's apartment really was a lot bigger than his. There were two bedrooms, a living room/kitchen, a bunch of storage space, and a pretty classy bathroom. There was even a tub! On the grand scale of fancy homes, Zabuza's place was nothing special... but compared to Kisame's, it was like a friggin mansion.

"No wonder you thought you'd get lonely here by yourself," he marveled as he put up his few possessions into one of the spacious closets. "A whole fuckin' family could live in here!"

Zabuza shrugged, glancing at him from the kitchen table, where he was reading a scroll. "It was cheaper cuz it's on the edge of town," he stated absently. "You make it sound as though I'm, I dunno, _eccentric _for living here."

"No, that's not what I meant," Kisame replied. "Perhaps I'm the weird one for living in such a shithole for so long."

Zabuza shrugged again and scribbled something into the scroll before promptly rolling it up. "It wasn't exactly a shithole," he muttered. "But yah, it was pretty small. At least here, there's enough space so we won't get on each other's nerves. Not like we'll both be here all the time anyway."

Kisame nodded passively. They were both officially 'back to work,' so to speak. Earlier in the day, they'd gone up to the Mizukage's office together and checked themselves back into the roster. Yagura had nodded his assent, then curtly dismissed Zabuza in order to have a private conversation with Kisame. The jinchuriki hadn't said much, other than 'how's your health,' which was a roundabout way of asking 'are you fully functional again?' The point of the privacy was mostly just to give him a bingo book. There were heads circled in it of several Kiri shinobi. 'Fuguki will meet with you this evening to give you more details,' Yagura had stated. And then he'd dismissed Kisame with a callous wave of his hand.

_Back to work, indeed, _Kisame thought to himself bitterly. He'd reverse-summoned the bingo book into a sealed scroll before leaving the Mizukage's office... now, he could feel the little scroll against his chest, stashed in a hidden pocket in his flak jacket. The small object felt heavy, even though it wasn't. Like a bodypart he wished he could dismember. He'd been hoping feebly that he'd have just a little more time before going back to his dirty missions... but on the contrary, it seemed as though the jobs had merely been stacking up in his absence. After all, he was the only shinobi in Kirigakure who did this kind of work.

"Something bothering you?" Zabuza asked, snapping him from his thoughts. The younger man's eyes were sharply focused on him, analyzing his expression.

"Not really," Kisame muttered. "I'm just a bit tired from moving today." When he realized that Zabuza knew he was skimming over the truth, he added, "Also, I have to go plan out a mission in a few minutes... and I'm not very thrilled about it."

"Damn, already?" Zabuza growled, riled. "Ridiculous!" But he left it at that, cursing under his breath.

"It's not a big deal," Kisame lied, itching the bitemark on his neck. "I'm alright." He kept his gaze level with Zabuza's, making sure not to let his eyes waver. _I need to play these missions off like they're trivial, _he told himself for the hundredth time in the past hour. _I can't let Zabuza know anything. If he learns about these assassinations, his head will be circled next in my bingo book! _Suddenly, the prospect of living with his comrade seemed like a terrible idea. _If I care about him, I should just keep my distance, _he brooded. _I'm putting him in danger by letting him get so close! I can't believe I'm being so fucking selfish._

Zabuza's hands clenched into fists on the kitchen table, his face the epitome of rage. "That's bullshit," he growled. "Nothing about this is alright!"

"It's fine," Kisame replied curtly, forcing his own hands to relax at his sides. "And I told you last night, it's not your place to interfere! If you do, I swear I'll move out!"

After a tense pause, Zabuza sat back a little and snorted, a grim smile curving his lips. "Wouldn't take you long," he muttered, his gaze focused on Kisame's scant belongings piled in the closet. "And shit, I'm not trying to pry. You know how I get." He uncurled his fists in an attempt to look less angry but his hands pressed rigidly against the table conveyed just as much rage. "I just wish there was something I could do," he grated.

_So do I! _Kisame thought to himself. A million responses flickered through his mind but he found that none of them were appropriate. They were all pleas for help, in one form or another. So instead of speaking, he strode over to the kitchen table and pulled the bandages from his face just long enough to give Zabuza a quick kiss. The contact agitated his split lip and sent a thrill of lust shivering down his spine, but he forced himself to withdraw. The sun was setting, a queue that it was time to meet with Fuguki. He walked skittishly to the door and gave Zabuza one last glance before leaving - his comrade was scowling and biting his lip as if to prevent himself from yelling a protest.

The meeting site was a damp cellar hidden beneath the Mizukage's towering fortress. The small, utilitarian area was a stark contrast to the looming grandeur above-ground; then again, it was a perfect spot for the shady business it housed. The stained cement walls, the metal pipes that snaked through the shadowy contours, the smell of mildew and rust... everything about the place invoked a feeling of secrecy and grim intention. As Kisame entered the dimly lit space, vivid memories of past assassinations flooded his mind, along with a few other unsavory moments - Fuguki had fucked him more than once down here, taking him right on the cold cement floor. It was safe to say that he hated this damn room for a plethora of reasons.

"You're late, Kisame." Fuguki's growling voice rumbled from the shadows, startling Kisame even though he'd been expecting the man to be waiting for him. His superior stepped into the edge of a patch of light, his towering figure partially revealing itself in the flickering glow of an oil lamp.

_Damn, he got even fatter, _Kisame brooded, trying not to stare. Fuguki was _huge_, the weight making his imposing height even more intimidating. He was at least thirty pounds heavier than the last time they'd seen each other, although it was hard to be exact in the cloak of shadows. Thirty pounds? Fifty?! It took Kisame a moment to find his voice and come up with a response... finally, he muttered a formal apology, even though he wasn't late. He'd been so engrained to be respectful toward the man, saying a snide remark was almost physically impossible.

"No matter," Fuguki growled, taking a few more steps forward. "I was thinking that perhaps, you wouldn't show up at all." As he advanced, the pool of light illuminated more and more of him until he was entirely visible, his massive bulk seeming to make the room around him smaller. He looked absolutely nothing like the effeminate, alluring man Kisame used to fuck... even when he'd gained some weight toward the end of their trysts, there had still been a hint of handsome features under the pounds. Now, there was nothing but a looming _henge_ with incongruously pretty hair.

As the man approached, Kisame fought down a random urge to bolt toward the exit, his brain nearly short-circuiting with revulsion. "I wouldn't shun my missions," he replied quietly, forcing his face to remain a solemn mask. "You know I can't."

"You've been shunning them for _months_," Fuguki snapped, baring his sharp teeth. "And while you were on vacation, I've been working my ass off, picking up your slack!"

_Looks like you've been *sitting* on your ass, not working it off, _Kisame thought to himself. But at the same time, he could see the fatigue in his mentor's narrow eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured with partial honesty. "I had a nervous breakdown." _And it was because of you, _he finished silently.

"No, you sat around and got hammered," Fuguki snarled, furious. "Wallowing in self pity! You're lucky Zabuza's been protecting you... otherwise I would have beaten the pity right out of you!" The way he said 'Zabuza' was so malicious, it was as if his voice was dripping venom. Kisame found himself glaring at the floor, his guts knotted up with a mixture of anger and humiliation.

"I said I was sorry," he growled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Please just give me my mission details." He pulled the scroll from his flak jacket and summoned his bingo book, hoping to change the conversation to business... he wasn't sure how much more of Fuguki's berating he could endure.

Scowling, Fuguki grabbed the book from his hands and began to flip through it. "Bitch," he muttered under his breath. "Thanks to you, the Mizukage wants my head on a platter! He blames me for everything, I swear..." His face scrunched a little as he pored through the pages - Kisame noticed small creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth, worry lines that hadn't been there before. Also, it was more than a little odd that he didn't refer to the Mizukage by his name. He and Yagura were around the same age and had basically grown up together, going through life's trials side by side. Even in the jinchuriki's presence, Fuguki addressed him casually. Kisame wasn't sure he'd ever heard the word 'Mizukage' escape his mentor's lips before. Perhaps Yagura was demanding a more formal title these days?

His thoughts dispersed when Fuguki abruptly began to tell him the mission details, his finger poised over the head of a Kiri shinobi who was, apparently, planning to usurp Yagura's reign. This is how he fights, this is his elemental nature, this is his weakness. Rote details that Kisame automatically stored in his mind, as the information for these assassinations was never written down on paper. Yet as his mind worked, he found himself sulking inwardly. _A Kiri shinobi, _he seethed. _Right off the bat! Why couldn't it be someone from an enemy village? _While he knew his anger was futile, it still bubbled up every single time he had a mission like this.

"The best time to take him down is tonight," Fuguki stated grimly as he handed back the bingo book. "According to my intel, he'll be leaving the village around midnight to meet with his conspirators. Wait for him outside the village gate, track him a ways, then kill him when he's a few miles out. I'll take care of the rest, providing false intel to the media. By the time the sun rises, all of Kiri will be convinced that Konoha had an assassin treading on our territory."

_Not *all* of Kiri, _Kisame thought to himself, remembering his tense encounter with Mei. Nonetheless, he nodded obediently. "I'll lay low for a while just to be safe," he said. "When shall me meet again?"

Fuguki gazed at him, a hint of anger and concern in his expression. "I'll let you know," he replied curtly. "And I can only hope you'll keep these missions to yourself. Tell me, do you still talk in your sleep?" It was obvious he was referring to Kisame's close relationship with Zabuza.

"You know I don't," Kisame muttered. When he'd first started fucking Fuguki, the older man had caught him babbling about assassinations in his sleep. The resulting training had been painful enough to quell the problem immediately... now, even when Kisame had the most gruesome nightmares, there was still a part of him that held enough awareness to keep his mouth clamped shut. It was amazing what the body could do on its own when it feared being harmed. The only side-effect was that he often awoke with a sore jaw, so fiercely did he keep it closed.

"Fine," Fuguki growled. "But I must warn you... the second you slip, I'll be forced to take the matter into my own hands. I have my eyes on you, Kisame." His narrow, brown eyes were locked on his subordinate's, grim and utterly emotionless.

_He sees me as a liability,_ Kisame realized, forcing his eyes not to waver. _I never should have let Zabuza get so close! _But at the same time, he knew in his heart that he would never divulge the nature of his missions to his lover. His desire to keep Zabuza safe was even stronger than all his training combined. "I won't slip," he grated. "You know me better than that."

Fuguki finally diverted his eyes and a snort of dry laughter escaped his lips. "Honestly, Kisame," he mused. "I don't know you at all anymore." He turned and abruptly left the room before the conversation could develop any further, a hint of lithe grace still evident in his stride. Even with his extra pounds, he made no sound at all as he ascended the stairway to the door and slipped through it. An elite assassin, regardless of weight.

Alone in the dark room, Kisame spent a while embroiled in thought. The jealous asshole Zabuza had described of Fuguki wasn't nearly as apparent as he'd been expecting. It seemed as though his mentor was angrier about the danger to the missions than anything else. Perhaps the threats he'd spouted to Zabuza had been little more than a front, an attempt to dissuade the relationship from becoming dangerously intimate? And beneath it all was something even more disturbing - genuine concern. Fuguki was _worried _about him, in his own cold way. Even though he was overweight, perhaps referring to him as as a 'fat fucker' was a rather rude misnomer. It was hard to say what was what anymore. The interaction left him emotionally drained.

He forced his thoughts to disperse and focus on the task at hand. This cellar wasn't just a meeting site; it was also a spiderweb of tunnels that led everywhere throughout the village. Down here, he could plot his assassinations privately and travel to an exit most beneficial to his scheme. He kept his anonymous, black clothing down here as well, so that he could change into a shadow without having to worry about people seeing him in the sketchy garb. Nonetheless, his eyes darted around warily as he undressed and slipped into his gear. Every single entrance was hidden by a powerful illusion jutsu which he didn't even understand... yet he always worried that one of these days, a shinobi would acquire Byakugan and see though the veil. Kiri had recently been skirmishing with members of the Hyuga clan so the sentiment was well-founded. He kept a kunai clenched in his sharp teeth as he dressed and shifted it to his hand when he was done. _One of these days, _he thought, _someone's going to catch on to these assassinations and barge in on this place!_

With this in mind, he hid his Kiri garments and swiftly ran down a tunnel that led to the village gates. It was pitch black in these passages but he'd been through them so many times that light wasn't necessary. Once he was at the entrance, he waited patiently until it was almost midnight before slipping out of the hatch and hiding himself in the cover of a nearby tree, flattening his thin body against a branch until he looked like little more than a knot rising from the wood. He adjusted his breathing to match the swaying of the limb, curled his ink-darkened fingers against the bark, closed his eyes to slits so that only his jet-black eyelids would be visible if someone happened to gaze in his direction. It had been months since he'd completed a mission like this but he hadn't lost any of his practiced skill.

Predictably, the target left the village right on time. After that, Kisame's mind was little more than a machine, making his body creep silently through the night with terrifying efficiency. The target was a jounin with several A-Rank missions under his belt but he was completely unaware of Kisame's presence until his throat was a wet, gaping slash of red. As Kisame routinely clamped a hand over his victim's mouth to muffle his cries, his thoughts were absolutely blank. It wasn't until he was back in the safety of the cellar that reality finally hit him.

The cellar had a bathroom, luckily. Kisame found the toilet just in time to vomit, his mind reeling with revulsion. When his stomach was empty, he spent another few minutes dry-heaving until there was nothing left inside him at all, not even bile. Thoroughly spent, he slumped to the cement floor, breathing raggedly and clutching his aching midsection. This wasn't a new occurrence... he hurled violently after every single assassination, emptying his guts into this same toilet until he was too tired to hate himself anymore. Throat burning, he let his eyes drift shut. In the morning, he'd be back in control of himself... but in the meantime, there was nothing he could do other than lay in a heap on the floor. Fuguki had told him that assassins dealt with their emotional hangovers in their own way. Some imbibed in alcohol, others fucked whores, a few injected heroin. In the end, they were all forms of purging. And Kisame found it morbidly amusing that he literally purged, as if his sins lay somewhere in the depths of his stomach and he could somehow expel them. Too exhausted to ponder his dysfunctions any further, he drifted off to sleep.

X X X

"Mission?" Zabuza asked passively. It was six am and the man was seated at his kitchen table, sipping on a cup of coffee. The sun was barely rising, casting pastel shades of pink and purple through the house... the shades looked incongrously pretty on Zabuza's harsh features.

"Yah," Kisame murmured as he shed his flak jacket and hung it up on the coat rack. "Nothing much... just took a while."

"All night, apparently," Zabuza growled, his sharp eyes scanning his comrade up and down. "You look exhausted. You alright?"

"Yah, yah," Kisame muttered, grabbing a cup and pouring himself some coffee. "I'm fine." He took a seat next to Zabuza at the table and slumped back wearily in the chair. Even though he'd been training rigorously, his muscles still ached from the strenuous requirements of his assassination. Combined with the scant two hours of rest he'd allowed himself on the cellar floor, he felt pretty shitty. He took a sip of coffee, avoiding his comrade's eyes. "Fuguki got a lot fatter," he said absently. "That was the biggest surprise."

Zabuza cursed under his breath and clutched his cup of coffee. "If he laid a hand on you-"

"For crying out loud," Kisame mused, laughing inwardly at his comrade's possessive nature. "He did no such thing! Believe it or not, he was quite professional. He just seemed... _stressed out_."

"That's cuz he's overwhelmed with jealousy," Zabuza replied, grinning wryly. "I'm sure seeing your sexy ass in person made him realize what an idiot he was for dumping you. Did he say anything about me?"

"Not much," Kisame confessed. "Like I said, he acted professional. Although the one time he mentioned your name, it sounded as though he was spitting acid."

Zabuza leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, his eyes glinting. "Jealousy," he repeated smugly.

Kisame snorted and sipped at his coffee, gazing at his comrade's wolfish expression with a mixture of adoration and dry amusement. "Yah, that must be it," he said, even though he knew in his heart that Fuguki's anger had nothing to do with petty jealousy. Regardless, it was better to let Zabuza think so. Plus, it was pretty sexy to see the younger man seething with his aggressive, animalistic pride.

"Since you're drinking coffee, I guess you're not planning on taking a nap," Zabuza growled, his grin widening to reveal his sharp teeth. "Wanna fuck?"

A snort of laughter escaped Kisame's lips. It seemed profane that mere hours after slitting a Kiri shinobi's throat, he should indulge in sex. But at the same time, perhaps it was what he needed. Isolating himself and 'indulging in self-pity' as Fuguki had put it would only sink him into another depression. On the flipside, perhaps it was also wrong that he should use Zabuza as a mindless distraction from his sins. Either way, he found his guilt dissipating, replacing itself with lust. He absently scratched the bite mark on his neck before wordlessly leaning over and crushing his lips against Zabuza's. The contact ran a thrill down his spine and by the time Zabuza's hand found its way to his erection, he wasn't thinking about his assassinations at all. Mindless distraction indeed!

As his mind shut down and his body took over, he realized that he was lucky to have even a moment of contentment. _I should relish every second I have with him, _he thought dizzily as Zabuza roughly stripped off his shirt and groped his abused chest. _Because there's no saying how long this will last! One of these days, my assassinations will catch up with me... and I'll wind up either going rogue or dying. _His fate seemed inevitable, sealed in his mind. And while he wasn't particularly afraid of dying, being cast from his village and wandering about alone was his biggest fear. It was far worse than death. In the meantime, all he could do was cling to what he had and appreciate that he had anything at all.

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Yet another long-ass flashback. Yah, I'm a bit obsessed with ZabuKisa right now... can you tell? Please leave a comment if you have the time.


	23. Chapter 23

"I told you it might be too late," Sasori growled, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. His doll-like face looked harsh and utterly inhuman in the sharp, lengthened shadows of the cloudless sunset. Normally, the orange-red glow of an evening like this would be beautiful... but tonight, it looked bloody and apocalyptic, as if the heavens themselves were reflecting the horrible scene that played out in this insignificant, remote bedroom.

Sasori had administered Kisame the antivenom hours earlier but it didn't seem to be working. The swordsman's breathing was still rapid and shallow and his heartbeat was even more sluggish than before, threatening to stop at any moment. Furthermore, he'd begun to cough up blood, choking on it until Sasori rolled him onto his side. He was very literally on the brink of death.

"Shut up," Deidara rasped. "I don't want to hear it." His eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying and his hysteria had waned to a solemn, cold despair. He'd been at Kisame's side all afternoon, caring for him to the best of his abilities and intently watching his progress... but now, he just felt as though he was staring at a corpse. What made it even worse was that Samehada had begun to whimper pathetically, sensing its master's lifeforce slipping away. Even though Kisame was technically still alive, the grieving process had already begun. There wasn't anything to do but wait for the inevitable.

_I need to stay positive, _Deidara told himself for the millionth time. But on the flipside, he knew that being hopeful would just make the pain worse if and when Kisame's heart stopped beating. So he remained indecisive, caught between hope and grief, unsure of how to handle either.

"Damnit, Deidara," Sasori muttered, shifting edgily. "You can't sit here all night. You have to eat something."

Deidara cursed under his breath and shot the redhead a crazed glare. "You're kidding," he said dryly. "Like I could hold anything down right now. Just go away... I want to be alone."

"Okay, fine," Sasori sighed, visibly frustrated. "But you must realize that you're being fucking dramatic. Shinobi die all the time! Are you gonna act this way every time you lose someone?"

"He's not dead yet, asshole," Deidara spat. "And tell me, how exactly am I being dramatic?!" He felt a random urge to attack the redhead but remembered that his leg was broken, basically rendering him immobile.

Sasori grinned ironically as he headed to the door. "Look at yourself," he mused. "You're the epitome of fuckin' angst. You want me to give you a kunai so you can slit your wrists? Or maybe I should buy you a diary so you can go to a graveyard and write shitty poetry."

Deidara felt another urge to attack but his immobility forced him to curb his rage. "If I wrote poetry, it would be awesome," he muttered after a pause. He sighed and shook his head. "You know how I feel about Kisame," he said. "And I-"

"And you're ridiculous!" Sasori cut in, his voice sharp with anger. "You guys hooked up less than a _month _ago... you're wasting your emotions on someone you barely even know! And furthermore, Kisame knew what he was getting into when he entered that lab and he'd probably be _ashamed _that you're crying like a bitch over him. Hell, the way Kirigakure was when he lived there, they probably gouged out the eyeballs of shinobi who cried! So I dunno... fuckin' _man up_."

Deidara looked around for something sharp to throw at the redhead but found only the damp cloth on Kisame's forehead. Nonetheless, he grabbed it and slung it at Sasori, who scowled and dodged it easily; it hit the wall with a wet splat and fell to the floor. "Didn't I tell you to leave me the hell alone?" he growled furiously. "Go the _fuck _away!"

Sasori rolled his eyes with exasperation but didn't say anything more - he slipped silently through the door, leaving Deidara alone with his thoughts.

_The epitome of angst, _the blonde seethed. _ Where does he come up with this shit?! _Pissed off and embarrassed, he wiped his tear-stained face with the back of his hand and muttered a curse. He just wanted to be at Kisame's side if and when he passed away... was that too much to ask? Dying alone was one of his biggest fears and he sure as hell wasn't going to let it happen to his lover. Considering the man had saved his life, it was the very least he could do. _I'll give him a proper burial, _he thought to himself. _But I guess Sasori will have to dig the grave since my leg's broken. I'll just have to sit there like a damn grieving widow. _He shook his head, appalled with himself. _ He's still alive, _he brooded, _and I'm already planning his funeral!_

X X X

Kisame's flashbacks were beginning to speed up - days flew by, then months. Everything progressed in fast-forward, despite his occasional desire to slow it down. Insane sex, memorable moments, enjoyable conversations... they were all just a blur, images flitting around, scenery morphing. Somewhere in his subconscious, he knew that this hurried pace was because he was nearing death, as if his mind was now skipping over the mundane details in its haste to summarize his life. Like a movie critic scanning a film for the major plot twists. Unfortunately for Kisame, the plot twists that molded his being were horrible experiences he didn't want to relive. Just once was more than enough! But no matter how he felt about it, time slowed down right as one of his worst memories began.

It was December. Kirigakure was in the middle of one of the worst cold snaps they'd ever experienced - the signature mist had crystallized into flurries of snow and the entire town was frigid and absolutely miserable. People blamed the cold on the Mizukage, on enemy villages, on anything they could think of, seething in their crappy, ill-insulated homes until their discontent was hotter than the damp wood smouldering in their fireplaces. While a few residents actually did die of hypothermia, most of the deaths that winter were murders and suicides. Kirigakure was suffering from a massive case of cabin fever and no one was immune...

"Something the matter, Zabuza?" Kisame asked. Even though he hadn't meant for the question to sound cynical, it did. His voice was flat and his eyes were fixated on his comrade's restless, flitting fingers. Honestly, he didn't really care _what _was the matter with Zabuza. He just wanted the man to stop drumming his damn fingers on the kitchen table. His partner had been uncomfortably edgy and possessive in the recent months, demanding to know where Kisame was going and where he'd been at all hours of the day. 'Clingy' wasn't an accurate adjective but nonetheless, the word kept popping up in his mind.

"Yah, there is," Zabuza sneered. "I'm fuckin' pissed at you, incase you didn't notice." When he saw the direction of Kisame's gaze, he scowled and clenched his hand into a fist.

"What is it this time?" Kisame growled. "I can't fathom what I possibly could have done to piss you off today... so please, do tell."

There was a long pause during which both men just glared at each other, seething. It was sad yet not exactly surprising that after only three months under the same roof, they were getting on each other's nerves - after all, they were both mentally unstable, ruthless shinobi who'd been taught to avoid empathy like the plague. What else could one expect?

Zabuza looked absolutely furious, his sharp teeth bared in a snarl. A vein was sticking out on his forehead, pulsing with his heartbeat. "I've been dealing with this shitty rumor that's been going around about you lately," he finally grated. "And when I tried to get to the bottom of it, I found out it was true!"

Kisame suppressed a smirk. "Oh really?" he mused. "Cuz you never bothered to ask me about it. And which rumor are you even talking about?" There were a ton of rumors about him, sparked mostly out of boredom. For some reason, people thought he led a pretty wild lifestyle. For instance, there was one going around that he was a bloodthirsty maniac who made money in underground cagefights... which wasn't true at all! A few years ago, Fuguki had arranged for him to fight a Konoha ninja in some basement in the Land of Fire. No weapons, no jutsu, just man vs. man. He'd lost, terribly, and had later found out that Fuguki had bet on the Konoha shinobi. The ninja was a dork named Might Guy and, coincidentally, he was a master at Taijutsu. Needless to say, Kisame had never participated in another cagefight. It had taken him _weeks _to recover, both physically and financially. So that rumor was obviously total bullshit. The others were even more ridiculous - ranging from prostitution to drug addiction to bestiality. _Just cuz sharks don't attack me doesn't mean I *fuck* them, _he seethed. So obviously, he was curious to find out which rumor Zabuza thought was 'true.'

"I'm talking about the rumor that you fucked Mei," Zabuza growled, his eyes narrowed.

"What?" Kisame stammered, shocked. "There's a rumor about _that_?!" He'd been convinced all these years that Mei hadn't told a soul about their one-night-stand. With this in mind, he'd given her the same respect and hadn't even told Zabuza. It bothered him that he couldn't keep a single secret about his personal life without having it backfire.

"Yah," Zabuza grated. "So I confronted Mei about it. After berating me for about half an hour, she told me she fucked your brains out! Said you were the best sex she ever had!" He was so angry he was trembling.

"She said that?" Kisame murmured. In any other circumstance, he'd be gloating - it took him every ounce of willpower he possessed not to burst out in ironic laughter. _ I'm the best sex she ever had? _he mused. _Really?! _"Well, did she bother telling you when it happened?" he asked. "Cuz it was almost two years ago!"

"So it _is _true," Zabuza seethed. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?! You in love with her or something?" He looked spring-loaded, as though he was preparing to leap from the table and tear Kisame to bits at any second.

"Of course not! She told me not to tell anyone," Kisame replied, bristling. "And either way, it was long before you and I hooked up! You're acting as though I _cheated _on you!"

"No, I'm just pissed that you're not fucking honest with me," Zabuza growled. "It makes me wonder what else you're hiding! How many women have you screwed anyway? If you've been with that slut, I can only imagine who else you've _degraded _yourself with!"

Kisame rubbed his temples, feeling the beginning of a headache. _It doesn't matter what I say at this point, _he thought. _ He's only gonna hear what he wants to hear. _He was becoming irritated... he hated it when Zabuza backed him into a corner like this. Knowing that violence was inevitable, he decided to hurry the process. He knew Zabuza wanted him to squirm and backtrack but it just wasn't going to happen. He'd rather get a few bruises. "I'm actually not sure," he confessed, leaning back in his chair. "I lost count."

The color blanched from Zabuza's face and his eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets. "You're lying," he said quietly. "You're just trying to piss me off!"

"No, I'm being honest," Kisame replied, shrugging. "I fucked a lot of women when I was younger. Blue skin's a chick magnet, what can I say? They just-"

Zabuza rose from his chair before Kisame could finish and violently overtuned the table. Plates and cups shattered loudly on the tile floor, making a mess of broken ceramic and spilled coffee. Kisame barely found time to get out of the way; now he was standing with his back against the wall, staring in shock at the wreckage. _Zabuza never breaks stuff, _he thought. _Is he really that mad?!_

"You fucking whore!" Zabuza yelled, walking barefoot through the mess of shattered kitchenware and not seeming to care that the shards were cutting his feet. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Um," Kisame muttered. "I don't know, what do you want me to do? Go back and _un-fuck _everyone? Build me a damn time machine and I'll get right on it." He wondered briefly if Zabuza was drunk... he'd never seen the man act so utterly ridiculous. _No, he's not drunk, _he told himself. _ I think I've threatened his masculinity! _He knew for a fact that Zabuza was horrible with women - some of his one-night-stands had even called rape after the fact because he was so damn aggressive. Not everyone likes being tied up and slapped around, for crying out loud! Either way, Zabuza's brain was ruled by testosterone... to be out-fucked by his passive, weird-looking lover was probably the mental equivalent of castration. Furthermore, Kisame suspected his comrade had a weird crush on Mei - he went out of his way to berate her and call her a man-eating bitch every time they crossed paths, which was his own inept way of flirting.

As the pieces fit together in Kisame's mind, he realized that this wasn't just a typical argument - it had already escalated far beyond any spats they'd had in the past. _How long has Zabuza been seething about this? _he wondered. _All day? All week?! _Regardless, he had a sinking feeling that his comrade wouldn't be content until one of them was severely injured... he could see the violent intent etched into the man's harsh features.

All these thoughts stormed through his mind in less than a second - Zabuza had barely taken two steps toward him before a conclusion was reached. _One of us will get hurt, _he told himself. _It's up to me to decide who it's gonna be. _He had no desire to be laid up in a hospital so the answer was obvious... but at the same time it wasn't. He wasn't sure if he could hurt Zabuza. Perhaps physical pain was better than the mental anguish of guilt?

"If I had a time machine, I'd go back twenty years and kill your pregnant mother," Zabuza growled, stepping closer so his face was just inches from Kisame's. "Then I wouldn't have to waste my life on a _whore_!"

Kisame felt anger burning within him, threatening to manifest itself at any moment. "My parents are dead," he stated tersely. "You should be respectful when you talk about them."

"Oh, shut up," Zabuza snapped. "No one in the entire Land of Water gives a _fuck _about your stupid dead parents so why should I? They're probably buried in a shitty mass grave along with everyone else from whatever village you came from."

"That's enough," Kisame grated. He gave Zabuza a rough shove to emphasize the fact, just short of a punch. Talking shit about one's deceased kin was a line shinobi rarely crossed - it was a dangerously sensitive subject. _Does Zabuza *want* to get his ass kicked? _he wondered furiously.

His thoughts dispersed when Zabuza shoved him back just as hard, baring a fierce grin full of sharp teeth. "What, you getting mad?" he taunted.

"Of course I am," Kisame snarled. "First you call me a whore, then you start berating my parents! Are you trying to get me to fight you?!"

Zabuza shrugged, a brisk movement of his shoulders. "I don't know what I want," he growled. "Part of me wants to kick you outta my house... but the rest of me wants to beat you so bad you won't even be able to _crawl _away."

"Is that so?" Kisame muttered, forcing himself to remain calm. "What a conundrum." He knew for a fact that Zabuza was no match for him in a fight... he could probably knock the younger man out with one hand tied behind his back. He wanted to say this outloud but held his tongue, knowing that his cold reasoning would only escalate the tension. Instead, he diverted his eyes as though he was intimidated. "Just let me leave, then," he said quietly. Anyone with a level head on their shoulders would laugh at his shitty acting but his comrade was obviously too angry to think straight.

"Fine," Zabuza snapped. "Get the fuck out." He crossed his arms and took a small step back, his eyes glinting feverishly.

Kisame repressed a frustrated sigh and glanced at the door. Any shinobi worth their salt knew to never turn their back on their enemy - it was one of the first lessons kids were taught in the ninja academy. Every cell in his body was screaming with this engrained instinct. _But damnit, he's not my enemy, _he reminded himself. _He wouldn't attack me when my back is turned! _With this in mind, he fought against his instincts and dropped his guard to walk to the door.

He'd barely taken two steps when he felt a barely discernable shift in the air. Nerves prickling, he reflexively tilted his head to evade - the small movement was just enough to avoid Zabuza's blow, which struck the side of his jaw instead of the base of his skull. Even missing its target, the impact was strong enough to knock out two of his teeth, which went flying out of his mouth with a surge of pain and a spray of blood.

Kisame experienced the attack in what felt like slow-motion, his senses heightened with shock and adrenaline to the point where he was nearly hallucinating. _That would have been a lethal blow, _he told himself dizzily. _He was trying to kill me!_

Ludicrous as it sounded, it was a fact. And before his teeth even hit the floor, he whirled around and punched Zabuza in the face, harder than he'd ever hit anyone before. The punch wasn't even a conscious decision, it was merely a reflex to a threat on his life. When Zabuza crashed into the upturned table behind him, the sound of shattering ceramic and splintering wood shocked him back to his senses. He had to blink a few times and stare dumbly at his fist before realizing what he'd done... and still, he found himself in a state of disbelief. He looked back down at Zabuza to find the man twitching spasmodically and clutching his face. Blood was pouring through his clenched fingers and a strangled, horrible sound was coming from his throat. From that sound alone, Kisame knew that he'd broken his comrade's jaw, severely.

A light-headed nausea crept over him, blurring his vision and quickening his heartrate. He took a step back, stumbling slightly. _He tried to kill me, _he repeated frantically in his mind... yet the fact was absolutely no consolation. How the hell did such a petty argument come to this?! Zabuza was too stunned from the punch to get to his feet - his eyes were open yet unfocused and the way he was clamping his hands over his jaw, he seemed afraid that his face would just fall apart the second he let go. Knowing the man might recover enough to attempt another attack, Kisame made his way to the door, absently shoving his feet into his sandals before letting himself out. He gave his comrade one last glance and shook his head.

"Dumbass," he muttered. "What the hell were you thinking?"

And then he left, slamming the door behind him.

X X X

Fuguki heard about the fight mere moments after it happened - the sun was just setting and people were scurrying through town on their way home from work, spreading gossip like rats spreading disease. He hated gossip more than anything so he tried to shut himself out from the talk, keeping his head bowed as he briskly made his way through the snow-dusted streets. So there was a fight. Who gives a shit! Thanks to this cold snap, there was more domestic violence in Kiri than all the great nations combined. It wasn't until he heard the names 'Kisame' and 'Zabuza' that he finally tuned into the various conversations whispering about.

"Yah, they just admitted Zabuza to the hospital. Guess he's gonna have his jaw wired shut for months! It's kinda nice knowing he won't be able to open his mouth to talk shit... but I still feel a little bad for him. He's gonna be _pissed _when he comes to."

"Kisame must've done it. I mean... who else could have knocked him out like that?"

"Probably had an argument about butt sex, or whatever it is gay people argue about. I'd get violent too if someone stuck their dick in my ass!"

"Poor Kisame must've finally snapped... butt-hurt, literally. I heard he's the one who's always on the recieving end, if you know what I mean."

"Yah, I heard that too. Kinda hard to believe that scary-looking bastard lets someone _fuck _him. Either way, it's hard to say what happened... Zabuza's KO'd and no one's even seen Kisame!"

"He's probably fucking a shark to blow off some steam."

"Oh, come on. He doesn't really fuck sharks... does he?"

"Someone told me he _is _a shark... like someone put a crazy jutsu on him to make him look human."

"Really? Well, that makes me wonder. You know, some sharks have two dicks..."

Fuguki rolled his eyes and tuned out, letting the ridiculous banter fade into the background. Part of him wanted to yell, 'he's not a fucking shark, you idiot! And he only has one dick!' But he held his tongue, knowing that anything he said would just fuel the rumor mill. He also knew that the second he was out of ear-shot, the conversation would gear toward him... how he's turning into his 'pufferfish' name. For all he knew, there was a rumor going around that he was a pufferfish in human form! The reality was much less dramatic - he'd been fat and petulant as a small child so the assholes at the orphanage had named him 'Fuguki.' Malnourishment paired with the strenuous requirements of being a shinobi had made him thin... but his slow metabolism was finally getting the better of him. Also, he'd quit using cocaine, which had rendered him basically annorexic during the past few years. Now that he was eating food like a normal human being, his body was freaking the fuck out, storing every last calorie in fear that it wouldn't get another.

So he was fat. Who gives a shit! The only bane was that he no longer had Kisame to screw. Guilt had finally forced him to let the poor kid go - there were only so many revolted glares he could stand before self-hatred got the better of him. Furthermore, most of his lust had been centered around the fact that boys got hard just looking at him... since that obviously no longer happened, he didn't even fuck hookers anymore. Sure, he still got horny. At lot. But he was discovering more and more these days that his hand was almost as good as a young ass. Also, it was a lot cheaper. _Kisame must have a ton of dough stored up, _he thought sourly. _Years of hard-earned money squandered on that pretty blue body! _Now he was having to do some morally questionable things to fill the hole in his pocketbook, things that stressed him out even thinking about them. Kirigakure was a miserable dive but divulging its secrets to enemy villages was a sin he knew he'd burn in hell for. _ I'm damned for eternity, _he mused, _but at least I'm not broke. That'll probably be my penance when I kick the bucket... a neverending stack of bills._

His thoughts gradually strayed from depressing introspection to the conversation he'd heard. Rumors were bullshit but they were usually spawned from a grain of truth... there was no doubt in his mind that Kisame and Zabuza had beaten each other up. It was the holes in the talk that worried him. Zabuza was in the hospital with a broken jaw but where was Kisame? Was he hurt just as bad? He knew for a fact that Kisame was a better fighter than his pretentious lover but at the same time, he was incorrigably passive. There was a good chance that he'd let Zabuza rough him up pretty bad before finally snapping.

_Well, if no one's seen him, he must be at the training field, _he told himself. _He goes there every time he's upset... he's so predictable! _It was below freezing and the frigid wind was cutting right through his robes, but he decided to endure the chill a little longer, setting his course for the fringe of town. Kisame had a mission to carry out in two days and there was no way he'd be able to do it if he was nursing an injury. The kid was terrible when it came to things like this - there was one time when he'd suffered a broken wrist for weeks, refusing to admit it until it swelled to the size of a baseball, almost past the point of recovery. To this day, it still caused him pain... Fuguki occasionally caught him wincing when he wielded his katana. He wondered what injury the punk would be hiding this time - there was no way of telling with him until the wound was too festered to conceal.

_Either that or I could strip him bare and inspect him myself, _he mused. _Maybe suck him off while I'm at it._ He forced the thought from his mind, cursing under his breath. He'd sworn off Kisame months ago but it was still hard to keep his hands to himself. Quitting Kisame had been harder than quitting coke! He still had withdrawals which no amount of masturbation could cure.

When he got to the training field, he realized that he may have gotten in over his head. Evening had rolled into night and the cloudy sky rendered the miles of wilderness below it pitch black, offering no light whatsoever to aid his search. Also, the temperature was steadily dropping to the point where it was nearly unbearable... it was difficult to concentrate between fits of miserable shivering and chattering teeth. _ If he's out here, he's probably freezing to death, _he thought. _And so will I if I stay out much longer! _ He had a pot of warm sake waiting for him at his house - it was hard not to turn around and make a beeline for it.

After twenty minutes of searching, he was about ready to give up. If Kisame was here, he obviously didn't want to be found - thanks to his extensive training in covert ops, he could practically turn himself invisible on a whim. The fact that Fuguki himself had engrained those very skills was morbidly amusing. _This is ridiculous, _he seethed. _ I'm just wasting my time._

"What the hell do you want?" Kisame's voice came from mere feet away; startled, Fuguki whirled around to find the punk right beside him, sitting at the gnarled base of an old oak tree with a bottle of sake clenched in his hands. In the cloak of the shadows, it was difficult to even see him - the contours of his slim body melded with that of the tree so well, it was like looking at an optical illusion.

"Jackass," Fuguki muttered, nerves prickling. "I almost slit your throat!" He emphasized the fact by revealing the kunai he'd automatically grabbed from the folds of his robe in his moment of confusion. "You know better than to startle me," he growled.

Kisame shrugged and took a slam of sake. "I've been watching you stumble around blindly this entire time," he stated. "Not my fault you're getting rusty."

Fuguki scowled, letting the remark slide with a fair amount of difficulty. "And you're getting drunk," he replied coldly. "I thought you quit."

Kisame rolled his eyes. "Why the hell do you care?" he growled. "You're the whole reason I had a problem with it in the first place, you fat fuck."

Fuguki sighed and rubbed his temples, forcing himself not to lose his temper. Kisame was probably the most obedient person on earth when he was sober but the second he got drunk, his manners always went to shit. This wasn't the first time the words 'fat fuck' had escaped his lips - Fuguki had heard the term more than once toward the end of their 'relationship.' Unfortunately, booze was a rather rude truth serum... suppressed emotions always came out after enough shots. "I walked all the way out here because I heard about your fight with Zabuza," he grated. "For once I'm being a good samaritan and this is what I get!"

"So word's already spreading through town about the fight," Kisame murmured, completely ignoring the insult he'd just spouted. "Fucking gossip." He shifted in the shadows and Fuguki noticed that he wasn't wearing a coat - just a sleeveless shirt and a worn out pair of pants. There was also a wet sheen at the corner of his mouth that was undoubtedly blood; it looked jet black in the muted moonlight. "I didn't want to hurt him," he said listlessly. "I just... _reacted_." He cleared his throat and spat out a gruesome mouthful of blood, which splattered onto the snow-frosted ground beside him.

"You're injured and you're obviously freezing," Fuguki bluntly stated. "Get up, I'm taking you home."

Kisame grinned viciously and took another large slam of sake. "There's no way in hell I'm going back to Zabuza's house," he sneered as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "The fucker tried to kill me! He's lucky I didn't put him the _ground_."

"He tried to kill you?" Fuguki echoed, his curiosity peaked. Lecherous thoughts of consoling then fucking his abused protege crowded his mind... he had a hard time keeping his hands at his sides, as if they had a mind of their own and wanted only to reach out and start groping.

"Yah, he tried the 'silent kill' on me as I was heading for the door," Kisame muttered. "If it wasn't for your training..." He trailed off and diverted his eyes.

Fuguki spent a few seconds gloating that he'd just gotten a compliment - he'd engrained Kisame with the ability to both use and forsee this infamous attack. The key was sensing the air itself, picking up on even the slightest shift in its current. Without the training, only sensory types could see through this technique... even so, it was nearly impossible to evade. He felt a surge of pride knowing that Kisame was so well trained that he'd avoided it - Zabuza was amongst Kirigakure's best in his proficiency with the silent kill. Ironically, Kisame loathed the technique. 'Once you've mastered it, it's like cheating,' he'd stated once. 'There's no fun in it.' He'd been only a day over fifteen at the time and his young, exotic body paired with his callous words had been insanely erotic. A beautiful little weapon, sharpened to perfection!

Fuguki's thoughts finally dispersed, forced away by another bone-chilling gust of wind. "We'll talk about this later," he growled. "For now, I'm taking you back to my house. You'll freeze to death if you stay out here."

Kisame scowled but eventually rose to his feet, staggering in the process and clutching the tree behind him for support. "I forgot to grab a coat," he muttered. "Now I'm too hammered to feel the cold." When he took a step forward, he stumbled and went crashing back to the ground.

"For crying out loud," Fuguki sighed. "Here, just hold onto me." He grabbed the younger man's wrist and yanked him upright, slinging his arm over his shoulder for support.

"Shit," Kisame gasped, wincing. "That's my bad wrist you grabbed!"

"Shut up and move your legs," Fuguki growled. "And give me a shot of sake... it's the least you can do!"

They walked back into town mostly in silence, solemnly passing the bottle of sake back and forth, tripping occasionally on a patch of ice. The only words uttered between them were muttered curses directed at the cold - Kisame was finally feeling the chill and Fuguki was too miserable even to think horny thoughts, barely registering the fact that the younger man was whorishly clinging to him to keep his balance, practically groping him in his effort to remain on his feet. Luckily, the freezing weather had emptied the streets from nosey onlookers - the few people they passed were too bent on getting out of the cold to even glance their way.

When they finally entered Fuguki's house, the warmth was so relieving it was almost narcotic. Unlike most of the idiots in Kirigakure, Fuguki had been smart enough to stockpile wood and keep it dry so he always had a fire going. He'd been through a cold snap just as bad as this one when he was a child and he'd never forget how badly he had suffered in that damn orphanage. Shivering on his cot amidst a bunch of crying, frostbitten kids, he'd told himself 'never again!' - it was one of the few inner promises he'd managed to keep over the years.

He helped Kisame to a couch by the hearth and lit a nearby oil lamp so he could get a better look at him. The punk's lips were dark blue and his eyes were dull from a combination of cold and drunkeness. Blood was leaking steadily from the side of his mouth, running down his face and soaking his shirt - booze was a bloodthinner and it was obviously making the injury worse, whatever it was. The only evidence of a wound was a bit of swelling in the right side of his face. He gave Kisame a stern look that said 'explain.'

"I don't even know what happened," the younger man muttered, diverting his half-lidded eyes from the glare. "Zabuza was pissed off that I've fucked more women than he has, I think. I've never seen him so angry."

Fuguki clicked his tongue and poured himself a cup of warm sake from the kettle on the hearth. "Does this have anything to do with the rumor that you screwed Mei?" he asked after taking a sip.

"Seriously?" Kisame snarled. "Even you know about that?!"

"I try to mind my own business," Fuguki replied. "But I can't help what I overhear. Either way, I'm more interested in your injury than your lovers' spat."

"Oh," Kisame murmured, touching his mouth and staring dumbly at the blood that coated his fingertips when he pulled his hand away. "I dodged his stupid silent kill but it still caught the side of my face," he explained. "Knocked out a few teeth. It's not a big deal... they'll grow back."

Fuguki rolled his eyes, embarrassed by the idiotic comment. "Teeth don't grow back," he hissed. "Are you dense?"

Kisame shrugged. "Mine do," he stated. "I thought you knew. I've been punched in the face so many times I wouldn't have any damn teeth at all if they didn't! You saw me after that ridiculous cage fight."

Fuguki reflected on the fight - Kisame's face had looked like a punching bag and several of his teeth had been knocked out, revealing ugly gaps every time he opened his mouth. "You told me you saw a dentist," he said, letting a bit of incredulousness seep into his voice.

Kisame shrugged again and leaned back in the couch. "I guess I lied," he confessed. "There's enough rumors going on about how I'm part shark without people knowing I grow back my fucking _teeth_."

"Bullshit," Fuguki growled. "I don't believe you. You probably just shed your baby teeth late or something."

"Man, you must think I'm retarded," Kisame muttered irritably. "But honestly, I couldn't care less whether you believe me. Fact of the matter is, I'll have a full set of teeth again in a few days... so call it what you want."

Fuguki cursed under his breath and took another drink of sake before setting down the cup. "Fine," he relented. "I'll believe it when I see it. But in the meantime, you need to put some gauze in your mouth to slow the bleeding." He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a kit of medical supplies which he kept around almost solely for Kisame - thanks to Samehada's healing ability, he rarely needed to use them on himself. He probably wouldn't have any supplies at all if it wasn't for the younger man's constant array of injuries. Lacerations, puncture wounds, concussions, burns... he'd seen them all!

When he returned to the couch with a wad of gauze, he found Kisame messily finishing off his bottle of sake, his head thrown back and his slender throat bobbing with each swallow. He'd become quite muscular in the recent months - his body was still lithe but it had a powerful look to it now that, at least in Fuguki's opinion, was even more erotic than before. "Damnit, I never should have let you go," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Kisame asked sluggishly when the bottle was empty. Sake was running down his chin, mingling with blood.

"I said you're a fucking mess," Fuguki growled. "Here, put this in your mouth." He handed over the wad of gauze and rolled his eyes when the younger man shot him a sheepish look.

"I think that's the first time you've ever said that without refering to your dick," Kisame mused. A wry grin slid over his lips before he quickly inserted the gauze, packing it between his molars.

"Don't worry," Fuguki grumbled. "Unlike your _partner_, blood turns me off."

Kisame blushed and shook his head. "Don't tell me there's a rumor about that, too," he slurred, his words muffled by the gauze.

"I have no idea," Fuguki stated bluntly. "I just know about the cases women have filed against Zabuza in the past. Apparently, he has a thing for biting."

"Yah, yah," Kisame sighed. "Believe me, I know all about it." His eyes drifted shut with contemplation and he absently scratched the crook of his shoulder. "I'm beginning to think more and more these days that he's fucking insane," he muttered.

"I don't know about that," Fuguki said, leaning against the wall by the hearth. "Men are jealous and violent by nature. You and I are just exceptions to the rules." He gestured passively, a half-hearted wave of his hand. "Not everyone has the benefit of being raised in that fucking orphanage," he mused. "Thanks to all the abuse and neglect, I think we're incapable of feeling emotions like regular human beings."

Kisame smirked and opened his eyes to narrow slits. "Slow down on the booze," he said. "You're starting to sound dramatic."

Fuguki laughed despite himself. "That's a bit hypocritical," he replied. "And also, you should clean yourself up before you even _think _about passing out on my couch. You're covered in blood, incase you didn't notice."

"I actually did notice," Kisame said, looking down at his blood-soaked shirt. "But whaddya want me to do? Take a shower? I obviously don't have a change of clothes." The expression on his face was a combination of curiosity and hostility, as if he was pondering the implications of 'cleaning up' with mixed feelings. For good reason, he had his doubts about undressing anywhere near Fuguki, even in the privacy of a bathroom - in the past, most of their trysts had started with a shower and a bottle of sake. Get drunk, bathe, fuck, blow lines and fuck some more. To this day, just the taste of sake reminded Fuguki of ravaging his protege's body! He could only assume that the same was true for Kisame.

"Don't sweat it," he muttered as he poured himself another cup of sake. "I still have some of your old clothes around here somewhere." He downed his sake in one gulp and walked to a hallway closet, where he found a few of the younger man's shirts and pants. "It's a bit of a conundrum that you even left them here," he added as he grabbed the garments. "Did you leave here naked? Or perhaps you stole some of my clothes." He returned to the living room and slung the apparel into Kisame's lap.

"I did acquire some pretty stylin' clothing from you," Kisame mused. "I got dressed all hammered a few times, too blitzed to know what I was putting on." A lopsided grin slid across his lips. "I have a badass pair of your 'seven swordsmen' pants that I wear from time to time," he admitted. "I must confess, they look damn good on me."

"I knew it," Fuguki growled. "Fuckin' thief." He scowled when Kisame shot him a dry look that said, 'not like they'd fit you anyway.' They used to have about the same waist size - it was absurd to think that less than a year ago, he'd been just as slim as Kisame. Now, his insane height combined with his weight made him feel utterly monstrous, belittling everyone around him. But to be honest, sometimes it was a good feeling. He rather enjoyed the looks of disgust he recieved from the women who'd doggedly tried to fuck him all his adult life - vapid bitches bent on screwing a member of the infamous Seven Swordsmen, despite his constant confessions that he was flat-out gay. He'd tried and tried to deter them, berating them in public when they flirted with him, even going so far as to roughly shove them away, hard enough to qualify as battery. Yet nothing he did had ever put a dent in their whorish determination. Now that he was fat, it was finally over. His stupid recurring nightmares of being forced to put his dick in a greasy, revolting cunt had ceased, too.

Unfortunately, being in Kisame's presence reminded him of what he'd lost when he'd let himself go. He felt a yearning to bury himself in cocaine for a few months, just long enough to become thin again. Just long enough to get down Kisame's pants, feel that alien-smooth skin against his. But the paranoia of coke paired with his recent sins of selling Kiri's secrets would undoubtedy drive him insane - he could see himself peering through his shutters, afraid to leave his house, utterly convinced that the entire shinobi world was outside his door, ready to punish him for his crimes. These dillusions had begun right before he'd quit... he'd started to see things that weren't there, shinobi spying on his every move, preparing to strike the second he let his guard down. Even Kisame had noticed the change in him, un-enthusiastically searching for Fuguki's imaginary stalkers and assuring him that no one was there as if he was consoling a child having a nightmare. Realizing that he was losing his grasp on reality, Fuguki had quit... unfortunately, the side-effects of sobriety had been just as bad, if not worse, than the side-effects of coke. What was worse? Being a paranoid freak or a disgusting fatass? Both options sucked, especially because Kisame was on neither end of the spectrum. And now here he was, alone and relatively miserable, wishing he could somehow go back in time to reverse all the shitty choices that had led him to this state of physical and moral decline. _ If I had a time machine, I wouldn't even know where to start, _he brooded. _I've been a piece of shit my entire life!_

His elaborate train of thought dispersed when Kisame sluggishly rose from the couch and plodded to the bathroom. "I'm locking the door," he slurred, giving his superior a suspicious glare. "I don't want you spying on me."

Fuguki suppressed a smirk. "Seriously?" he mused. "Have a little trust."

Kisame rolled his eyes and briskly shut the bathroom door, making sure to lock the bolt loud enough for all to hear.

"Fuckin' prude," Fuguki muttered under his breath. He would have been half-insane with frustration if he wasn't so tired - as it was, he was just anxious to go to bed and forget this night ever happened. He knew his chances of hooking up with Kisame were nill... even though the punk _was _wasted and emotionally vulnerable. Okay, so the chances weren't exactly nill. But either way, he was reluctant to take advantage of his protege's susceptible state. For all he knew, the boy would wake up hungover in the morning with a sore ass and slaughter him in his sleep! People were killed for pettier things.

On the subject of petty murders, Fuguki's thoughts drifted to Zabuza and his silent kill attempt. He was mildly suprised that the man would take an argument so far... yet he wasn't exactly shocked. Zabuza was the textbook definition of an alpha male - aggressive, dominant, prideful, ambitious. In short, he carried all the traits of an abusive prick, especially when it came to heated disputes. Fuguki had witnessed this first-hand, when Zabuza and Kisame had officially begun to 'date,' or whatever you wanted to call it. When he'd politely asked the man how Kisame was faring, he'd been assaulted by a barrage of shouting, taunts and threats. The disrespect had been irritating, to say the least. He couldn't remember what his exact response had been but it was something along the lines of 'one more word and I'll put you in your grave.' Since then, every interaction they had was tense and bordering on violence. Fuguki even found himself acting like an alpha male from time to time around the man, his latent humanity roiling to the surface in the form of testosterone-fueled rage.

God, Zabuza was so maddening! Like an itch he couldn't scratch. It would be so easy to kill the fucker, too... just blot him from the face of the earth. A poisoned kunai in the back, a senbon through the neck, even a skull-shattering punch in the face. With his political sway, he'd get away with it without so much as a night in jail! Indeed, it was tempting... but it was little more than a pipe-dream. Zabuza being a rotting, worm-infested corpse would bring him no closer to Kisame. In fact, it would probably drive him away even further, if that was possible.

Annoyed by his own thoughts, he poured the last of his warm sake into his glass and sat down on the couch. He usually avoided such musings but having Kisame so near set his mind on overdrive. Alternate realities, what could have been. He couldn't help but envision a parallel universe where instead of using his protege as a whore, he'd acted like a gentleman. No coke, no booze, no monetary bribes. Buy the punk a diamond ring or something. Take the fantasy back even further and he never would have gotten involved in the hooker industry to begin with. Instead of fucking for money as a teenager, this parallel Fuguki would earn an honest living through his early years, leaving his mind untainted, able to get a hard-on without the engrained instinct that sex was something you paid for. Kisame thought he was pervert for buying hookers... and sure, he was. But he was little more than a product of his environment. Once a whore, always a whore, whether you were the one doling out the cash or recieving it. Just like his instincts to kill had been enforced by the ninja academy, his instincts to be a debaucherous piece of shit had been hammered into him by Kirigakure's dark side. Here he was in his thirties and he was just barely realizing that sex was supposed to be an intimate, sacred act, shared between two people who loved each other. Who knew? To him, it had always just been a service, like waiting tables or tending bar. Do a good job and maybe you'll get a tip.

It also hadn't occured to him until recently that perhaps his callous way of viewing sex had emotionally scarred poor Kisame, that maybe he'd destroyed the kid's innocence. Seriously, the thought had never crossed his mind! Prostitution was such a mundane reality of his life that he still had a hard time imagining how it could be traumatizing. He'd started working at a brothel around the same time he'd hit puberty - he and his equally young coworkers had always joked about how it was a pain in the ass. But it was just a way to make a living... nothing more, nothing less. And honestly, he'd never felt any incongruity between being a prostitute and being a shinobi. In both professions, you were no more than a tool. If he'd been traumatized by selling his body, he wasn't aware of it. Then again, the years he'd spent miring himself in drugs, booze and every debauchery known to man had probably drowned out any pent-up trauma he might have had. If he was emotionally scarred, only the most adept mind-reader would ever be able to know, because he had no idea himself. Am I traumatized? What a pointless question!

He could analyze himself for all of eternity with no fruition... the same vague answers would keep returning. I'm a product of my environment. I can't change the past. It was fucking stupid that he would let himself wander in such a direction - introspection was probably the most pointless thing a shinobi could attempt, especially one whose life had gone down the tubes. Pointless, pointless!

When he heard Kisame unlock the bathroom door, he inwardly sighed with relief. Talking to his shitfaced protege was a big step up from delving into his own ugly mind. He looked over to find the younger man stumbling out of the bathroom amidst a haze of steam, wearing the clean clothes he'd been given - a ragged, distressed wifebeater and an equally worn pair of jounin-issue pants. The threadbare garments clung tightly to his lithe, muscular form, revealing every detail of his body as if he were naked. The taut contours of his washboard abs, the seductive curve of his lean hips, the graceful flow of his neck and shoulders... it was such a perfect sight that Fuguki had to look away in fear of getting an out-of-place erection. Thanks to the abnormally large size of his cock, he had more self-control over his lust than the average man, as even a half-hearted boner tented his pants like a damn flagpole. But his restraints flew out the window when Kisame was involved... over the years, he'd battled numerous spontaneous erections in the younger man's presence, excusing himself from training rounds to masturbate. Much of these dick-taming sessions had happened long before Kisame turned eighteen - his naive protege had just assumed the frequent leaves were to take a piss. All for the better! The fact that watching innocent, underage Kisame handle a katana was hornier than looking at porn was _not _something he ever wanted to confess.

_And tonight's no different_, he brooded crossly, focusing his lecherous gaze on the flames in the hearth. _Kisame would run away screaming if he knew I was still horny for him! _Out of all the secrets he kept about his life, this was the one he had the hardest time with.

His thoughts evaporated when Kisame flopped down next to him on the couch. "What're you so deep in thought about?" the younger man slurred. "You pondering the meaning of life or something?" It sounded as though he'd already taken the gauze out of his mouth... hopefully he wasn't still bleeding like a stuck pig.

"Something like that," Fuguki muttered, intently keeping his gaze on the fire. "Although I don't advise it. Life's fucking meaningless." He could feel Kisame's warmth beside him, prickling his senses almost like skin-on-skin contact. "Did you forget that there's other places to sit in this house?" he growled.

"What, am I grossing you out or something?" Kisame mused. "I'm aware of the fact that you only screw younger men... I didn't know you wouldn't even _sit _next to a fuckin' adult."

Fuguki cupped his chin in his hand to conceal an ironic grin. "Well, it's nice that after all these years, you still respect me," he replied sardonically. "You know, I've heard 'pedophile' and 'fat fuck' escape your lips more times than I can count. Any other superior would've beaten you senseless for your foul mouth!"

"Okay, so instead of beating me senseless, you _fucked _me senseless," Kisame countered quickly, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Fuguki finally diverted his eyes from the fire to shoot his protege a dry glare. "Don't give me that," he muttered. "You enjoyed it." Once his gaze was focused on Kisame, he found that he couldn't look away. The younger man was sprawled out next to him, his arms draped lazily over the back of the couch. It took him a minute to realize that Kisame was toying with a stray lock of his auburn hair, twisting it absently around his forefinger. "What the hell are doing?" he snapped, unsure of whether he was shocked, aroused or enfuriated.

Kisame blinked and stopped his toying as if he hadn't been aware of it. "Who knows," he murmured with an apathetic shrug. "I guess I was noticing that you still have pretty hair." He scoffed and scooted further away on the couch, apparently disgusted with himself. "Don't take it as flirting," he stated gruffly. "Cuz your hair's all you got going for you these days."

"For crying outloud," Fuguki sighed, exasperated. "You're the worst drunk I've ever met." He pondered rising from the couch but his dick convinced him to stay in the slim chance it would get some attention. When Kisame was hammered, he was as unpredictable as he was rude - there was a minute probablility that he'd forget his mentor was repulsive, just long enough to offer himself up for a fuck. It had been that way toward the end of their trysts... sometimes Kisame would be colder than a block of ice, only to melt down seconds later into a weird inferno of lust. He was a crazy, bipolar brat when he was drunk, the exact opposite of the obedient drone he was when sober.

"Hey," Kisame growled, shifting edgily on the couch. "You got any more booze? I'm fuckin' thirsty."

"If you're thirsty, you should drink water," Fuguki replied sourly. "You're even more of a dick when you're hungover than when you're drunk. I have no desire to wake up in the morning to find you puking your guts out in my bathroom."

"I'm gonna be hungover no matter what," Kisame stated. "And you know I don't like to half-ass things. So come on, let's get fuckin' hammered! It'll be like the old days... minus the fucking. And the..." he trailed off for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. "You wanna get some coke?" he finally said. "I'll buy."

"No," Fuguki growled, his voice flat. "I quit! Why the hell do you think I gained so much weight?"

Kisame grinned wryly. "I thought it was the same reason all people get fat," he replied. "You sit on your ass all day and eat too much food."

"Yah, well you're wrong," Fuguki snarled. "Fuckin' brat." He narrowed his eyes at the younger man. "And I could still kick your ass any day of the week," he added.

Kisame laughed, his eyes glinting. "You sure about that?" he taunted. "It's been a while since we sparred and I think that maybe the tables have turned."

"In your dreams," Fuguki muttered. But the thought distressed him, especially because there was a chance it was true. If it ever came down to a fight to the death, who would come out the victor? While Fuguki still diligently trained, there was no doubt that Kisame was racking up some serious experience with his recent load of missions. Furthermore, Samehada had become next to useless as of late, sullenly disobeying his commands on a whim. He kept it strapped to his back mostly as a sign of power, hoping he wouldn't have to actually use it in fear that it would decide to stab his hand the second he grabbed its hilt. He knew the reason, too - it had already chosen its next master. But he wasn't ready to give the weapon over to Kisame just yet. The symbolism of such an act, stepping down from the ranks of the Seven Swordsmen. No way! Especially not when the successor in question called him a fat fuck the second he consumed a drop of sake! He'd rather hold onto a useless sword that drew his blood on a regular basis.

Kisame sighed and shifted again, his eyes becoming dull with boredom. "You're no fun anymore," he bluntly stated. "You suck at holding a conversation even more than I do."

"I have a lot on my mind," Fuguki sighed. "Give me a break. And also, I've never been _fun_." He rose from the couch and grabbed another bottle of sake from a cabinet in the kitchen, impatiently uncorking it with his teeth. He'd pondered his inadequacies long enough tonight - suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to drown his thoughts in more alcohol. Hangover be damned! He leaned against the kitchen counter and took a big slam, relishing in the numbness that would inevitably ensue.

"Alright, I digress," Kisame muttered from the couch. "You're the most bitter human being that ever lived. Now can I please have some of that sake before you hog it all?"

Fuguki growled an obscenity and stuck out his middle finger. "If you can't even ask me politely, you're not getting shit," he stated. He scowled and rolled his eyes when he noticed that the younger man was scratching the crook of his neck for the millionth time in the past hour. It was annoying as hell, reminding him of the nervous ticks people got when they used coke. "Stop that," he growled. "It's really starting to bug me."

Kisame looked confused for a moment before realizing the direction of his mentor's gaze... he dropped his hand with an equally annoyed frown. "While I appreciate your hospitality, I'm not too keen on getting picked apart by your stupid pet peeves," he grumbled. "I'm just scratching a damn itch, for crying out loud."

"Must be a pretty bad itch," Fuguki dryly responded. "Because you seem intent on scratching your _skin _off." He tuned out from Kisame's rude rebuddle with another slam of sake, letting his eyes focus in on the crook of the kid's shoulder. The spot looked sore and slightly swollen, as if it was infected. _Another injury?_ he wondered as he lowered the bottle from his lips. _I bet he's been hiding it under those high collared shirts he always wears_. Still ignoring his protege's insults, he derisively walked behind the couch and leaned in to examine the mark.

"Hey," Kisame griped, twisting in the couch to shoot his mentor a glare. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Shut up and sit still," Fuguki commanded, using the same stern voice he employed when giving mission orders. Kisame clicked his tongue but complied, his years of engrained subservience forcing him to obey. Despite the debaucherous trysts the two had shared, their rigid roles as superior and underling still held fast - the right words spoken in the correct tone rarely failed to put Kisame in his place, regardless of how drunk he was. Fuguki relished in this fact as he leaned in again and took another look at the mark. It was a bruised, jagged ring of swollen punture wounds, festering and fringed in dark purple... there were scars of a similar nature overlapping it, as though the same injury had been inflicted over and over throughout a long period of time. He knew what it was immediately and nearly lost his temper - he had to go through a calming exercise before even attempting to speak, taking deep, controlled breaths to slow his heartrate. When his blood was no longer boiling with rage, he stated, "that's from Zabuza." It wasn't even a question. There was no uncertainty in his mind.

Kisame shrugged, still looking straight ahead with a blank expression on his face. "None of your damn business is what that is," he muttered. "Now back off." He tried to cover the mark with his hand but froze when Fuguki briskly cuffed his jaw, right where Zabuza had hit him earlier - it wasn't hard enough to worsen the injury but there was no doubt that it caused pain.

"I told you to sit still," he hissed. "You're acting like a _child_."

Kisame rubbed his sore jaw, miffed. "And you're acting like an _asshole_," he growled.

"No, your idiotic boyfriend's the asshole," Fuguki snapped. "And so are you for letting him do this! Haven't you even noticed that you have a serious infection? Let this go for a few more days and you'll be laid up in a fucking hospital with an IV in your arm!"

"You're exaggerating," Kisame murmured. "Don't try to scare me... you know it doesn't work."

Fuguki sighed and rubbed his temples, resisting the urge to beat the shit out of his protege for being such a stubborn, insolent bastard. "I'm not trying to scare you," he sighed. "I'm just stating a very obvious fact. The human mouth is a bacterial _cesspool_... your horrific bite-mark is a prime example."

"That's some weird logic," Kisame mused. "It means you've spent immense amounts of cash to get your dick sucked by a cesspool." He turned his head so Fuguki could see his profile and lewdly flicked his tongue.

The older man sighed yet again and took a step away from the couch, nearly wincing in his effort to keep his cock under control. The sight of Kisame's slick, pink tongue feigning oral sex stabbed at his lust like an icepick. "Did you study anything in the ninja academy?" he grated as he willed his dick into submission. "Human mouths aren't harmful whatsoever unless an open wound is involved - the germs obviously can't penetrate the skin. If they could, people wouldn't even dare to kiss each other!"

A humorless, vicious smirk played over Kisame's lips. "If I was your superior, I'd _smack _you for talking to me like I'm stupid," he said coldly. "But since it's the other way around, I can only hope that you won't insult my intelligence any further. I know bites cause infections... I just don't happen to give a fuck."

Fuguki spent a brief moment mulling his protege's retort over in his mind... he'd forgotten that the kid could be so piercing and articulate when he was drunk. "Well, I give a fuck," he finally replied. "You have a mission coming up the day after tomorrow... we'll _both _be reprimanded if you fail because of such a ridiculous injury." He headed over to the first-aid kit once more, handing Kisame the bottle of sake in the process. "And I wasn't implying that you're stupid," he added. "You're just _irresponsible_."

Kisame shrugged and took a drink of sake, passively watching his mentor rummage through the kit. For some reason, he seemed to be content with the title of 'irresponsible,' although it was also possible that he was placated simply because he had more booze.

Fuguki returned to his spot behind the couch with a roll of gauze and a bottle of antiseptic. "I won't tell you to hold still again," he warned.

"Yah, yah," Kisame muttered. "Just get it over with." He took another slam of sake then crossed his arms, his muscles tense.

After applying the antiseptic to the gauze, Fuguki found himself hesitating. He hadn't had physical contact with his protege in several months and wasn't sure if he could handle it without losing his damn mind. Even the dull act of cleaning a wound might snap his self-control in two. Nonetheless, he didn't have much of a choice... he'd been the one to say something about this stupid bitemark so now he had to follow through. He bit down on his tongue and focused on the pain as he carefully began to dab the wound with the gauze, trying to prevent his fingertips from actually touching flesh.

Kisame growled a curse and squirmed a little from the contact. "That's fucking cold," he hissed.

"Don't be such a pussy," Fuguki replied, his voice coming out softer than he'd intended. When he tried to press the gauze more firmly against the punctures, the younger man flinched and squirmed again. Before he could stop himself, he sternly grabbed his protege's shoulder with his free hand to hold him still. The contact sent a thrill down his spine that manifested itself in a very slight shiver. He never thought he'd forget how smooth that blue skin was but the feel of it against his palm was a much more divine sensation than he remembered. It was like polished marble... if marble was warm, seductive and pliant. Dizzily, he bit down on his tongue again and focused on the task at hand, forcing his hands not to tremble as he continued to clean the wound_. Damnit, I'm barely touching him and I'm swooning like a school girl,_ he thought bitterly. _Pathetic!_

When he reluctantly looked down at Kisame's face, he was stunned by what he saw. The younger man's eyes were half-lidded yet feverishly bright and his gill-patterned cheeks had turned a shade of violet. He was breathing quickly and biting his lip, his fevered gaze focused intently on the bottle of sake clenched in his hand. The look was painfully familiar but Fuguki had a hard time realizing what it was - it took him a few moments to decipher it as the shy 'fuck me' expression the boy always got before a voracious round of sex. Even then, he found himself flatly refusing to believe that his protege was turned on_. That look... it must be for some other reason, _he brooded as he mechanically tended to the wound_. Maybe he's just really pissed off. _But anger didn't usually cause people to blush and bite their lip.

A fragment of a long-past conversation fluttered through his mind, vivid like deja vu. 'You have rougher hands than anyone I know,' Kisame had moaned, impaling himself on his mentor's fingers during one of their very first trysts. 'It's like being groped by _sandpaper_.' The younger man had been oddly turned on by his calloused hands, begging for their attention. Back then, simply depriving Kisame from his touch had been a form of torture, reducing the punk to a frustrated, horny mess.

_Fuck_, he cursed inwardly, his mind reeling. _There's no way in hell he still gets turned on by my hands, let alone *any* part of me. Absolutely no way in hell! _He repeated the sentence to himself over and over as he briskly, almost angrily scrubbed at the punctures. _Absolutely no way in hell!_

"Ouch," Kisame gasped, wincing. "What the fuck are you doing back there?" His voice sounded weak and his eyes remained intently focused on the bottle of sake in his lap. He seemed to be afraid to divert his gaze even for a second as if in fear of accidentally shooting his mentor a wanton glare.

"It's infected because it's dirty," Fuguki growled. "So I'm cleaning it." Experimentally, he let his hand shift slightly on the younger man's shoulder, his fingertips dragging over the skin a fraction of an inch. Kisame breathed a barely audible curse in response and the blush on his cheeks deepened to magenta. A minute shiver caused the downy hairs at the nape of his neck to stand on end. "I don't know why you're being such a bitch," Fuguki mused, goosebumps raising up on his own skin.

"I'm not being a bitch," Kisame murmured, his voice little more than a whisper. "You're just-" Another small movement of his superior's calloused fingers froze him in mid-sentence as though he'd been shocked with a jolt of raiton.

"Just what?" Fuguki meekly inquired, doing his best to sound innocent.

"You're just _torturing _me!" Kisame panted. "Jackass!"

"You've got to be kidding," Fuguki replied in the same innocent tone. "I've tended to wounds far worse than this one and you never said a word!" Emboldened, he smirked and gave Kisame's shoulder a rough squeeze - something akin to ecstasy washed over him when the brat squirmed and feebly adjusted his pants in an attempt to conceal his stiffening cock.

_I'll be damned_, he marveled, elated. _He really *is* turned on. _A hard dick was a pretty obvious sign of lust, no two ways about it. His own cock had also sprung to life, swelled to its full twelve inches despite the restraining fabric of his pants. He was grateful to be standing where he was, his lower half hidden from his protege's view by the back of the couch.

An immeasurable amount of time passed, punctuated only by a vapid exchange of taunts and curses as he continued to torture the boy under the guise of medical attention. A few seconds? An hour? It was impossible to say. All he knew was that Kisame was drawing nearer and nearer to some sort of impulsive reaction... his gorgeous cock was rock-hard and his muscles were coiled tight like springs. He seemed torn between fucking, fighting and fleeing.

Finally, Kisame quit staring at the bottle of sake - he turned his head and let Fuguki's gaze lock on his. "Stop teasing me," he grated. "You know it drives me crazy." His wild, predatory glare reminded the older man of a starved animal seeing its first meal in weeks. Desperate, ravenous, half-mad with anticipation. Those exotic eyes could convey a feral intensity that no other human on the face of the planet could possibly match. When the intensity was fueled by intent to kill, the result was utterly terrifying... but when fueled by lust, it was a look Fuguki would sell his fucking soul for.

_Bring me the devil so I can sign the contract, _he mused as he drank in his protege's glare. But despite his elation, he forced himself to stay composed. "If you're suggesting what I think you are, you know you'll regret it in the morning," he heard himself say. His actions stole the meaning from his words as he dropped the wad of gauze and slid his hand over to Kisame's right shoulder so that he was gripping both arms just above the sensitive gill marks.

"Come on now," the younger man breathed raggedly. "Since when do you give a shit about my _feelings? _And either way, aren't I a bit old for your taste?"

"You have that sentence backwards," Fuguki growled as he sank his fingertips down to the gill marks and lightly caressed them, causing his protege to cry out and arch his back. "You haven't been attracted to me in ages."

Kisame clicked his tongue and mustered a scowl. "You don't know that," he said. "You're the one who ended our relationship, remember?"

Fuguki almost laughed. "Yah, I remember," he mused. The way Kisame said 'relationship' made it sound as though their debaucherous trysts had been something more than sex-for-money transactions. It was ridiculous yet sadly charming. "But either way, it was very apparent that you weren't into me anymore," he stated, his fingers stroking his protege's gills in the same way he might tease a cock. "I don't know how you could possibly think there was any mystery about it. You were extremely _blatant _about your distaste... calling me all kinds of things..."

For a moment, Kisame didn't appear as though he'd even been listening - his eyes had drifted shut and the way he was melting into the couch made it look like he was getting a blow job. His gill marks were different than any pleasure point on a normal human being... if they were stimulated with enough skill, he could cum without even touching his cock. It was bizarre that he often walked around in sleeveless shirts - what if someone came up to him and touched his shoulder during a casual conversation? Would he get a random erection? Would he cum in his pants? Fuguki had wondered about this to an obsessive degree, finally deciding that his protege must have some control over the sensations. But... what if an enemy learned about this sexy weakness and exploited it in battle? The result would undoubtedly be something you'd find amidst the pages of poorly written erotica. 'Make-out Tactics' for gay dudes.

Eventually, the boy's eyes opened to narrow slits. "Well," he murmured, "it's not my fault you got fat." He shifted restlessly on the couch, arching into his mentor's touch. "I mean... what the _fuck_, Fuguki," he sighed. "You were the hottest guy on the face of the planet... you shoulda just stayed that way!"

Fuguki laughed and harshly dug his fingertips into the gill marks, making the younger man wince and moan a curse. "Well, what do you want me to do?" he mused. "Go back in time and _starve _myself?" He shrugged. "I don't think it would work anyway," he stated. "I was doomed to be fat from the start. My mother was obese... so I think it's a genetic thing."

Kisame's eyes widened in surprise. "You knew your mother?" he asked. "You never told me that!"

"Nah, I didn't really know her," Fuguki admitted, his hands ceasing their flirting as he tried to recount the old memory. "I was only three when she abandoned me. All I remember about her was that she was fat and abusive. Dramatic as it sounds, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. She was just typical Kiri white trash, popping out kids, too lazy to support them. Unfortunately, she died of a heart attack before I was old enough to seek her out." He grinned and shook his head. "It was probably all for the better," he muttered. "Cuz I just wanted to find her and beat the crap outta her. Dumb, selfish bitch."

"Damn... I bet that's why you hate women, huh," Kisame ventured, his curiosity peaked.

"Who knows," Fuguki stated. Part of him wanted to go on a rant about how all women were disgusting, self-centered demons but he held his tongue, knowing that his protege respected (and even screwed) members of the opposite sex. The last thing he wanted to do was end this marvelous scene by offending Kisame - the boy's cock was still rock-hard, as if learning information about his mentor was just as erotic as foreplay. As far as Fuguki could recall, he'd never divulged anything personal to the boy before. He'd always kept their conversations cold and professional.

"But what about your father?" Kisame pried, undaunted by the older man's silence.

"No idea," Fuguki replied, surprised that his pathetic origin was so interesting to his protege. "I've been told that my mother was a slut... so he could be anyone."

"That really sucks," Kisame said, a barely discernable hint of sympathy in his voice. "If I thought my father might still be alive, I bet I'd roam the edges of the earth looking for him." He laughed and shrugged. "Although if I saw another guy with my appearance, I'd probably faint from the shock." Grinning, he reached up and covered one of Fuguki's hands with his own, pressing it against his shoulder. "You know, I think this is the first time you've actually talked to me about shit," he mused. "And yah, I know that sounds gay."

"Well, we're both pretty damn gay," Fuguki chuckled, reveling in the feel of Kisame's hand against his. "So I guess 'talking' was inevitable." The younger man's palms and fingertips were also calloused, rugged from years of rigorous training. When his protege lightly massaged his wrist, he had to bite his lip to stifle a moan.

"I've always wondered about my parents," Kisame sighed, leaning his head back onto the couch so he could look straight up at the older man looming above him. "I don't even know what fucking village I came from."

Fuguki watched in mild disbelief as the boy guided his hand down to the sculpted planes of his chest. "I don't know either," he replied raggedly. "I was just a kid when you were brought here." He was going to go on about the mystery surrounding Kisame's past - how no one at _all _seemed to know where the fuck he'd come from - but his train of thought escaped him. It was difficult to think about anything while pinching his protege's hard nipple through his shirt... the only sentiment running through his mind was _does he want to fuck? Does he seriously want to fuck?!_

The answer seemed obvious... but at the same time it wasn't. Kisame was _hammered_. This one simple fact was the only thing preventing him from pinning the boy down and taking him right there on the couch. He could envision the morning with painful clarity - both of them miserable and hungover, Kisame nearly suicidal with regret. A half-drunk argument would ensue about who's fault it was and Fuguki's defense that 'you wanted it' would just go in one ear and out the other. In the end? Kisame would hate him even more than before.

The blame would never end! Fuguki could see days, months, even years during which Kisame would seeth and call him a rapist. A lifetime of misery just over this one stupid night.

"Okay," he muttered aloud. "The answer _is _obvious." With a willpower he never even knew he possessed, he wrenched his hand from Kisame's grasp and took a few steps away from the couch. The younger man immediately bolted upright and twisted around to shoot his mentor a stunned, furious glare, the sudden movement causing him to slosh a considerable amount of sake onto his lap.

"Fuguki... what the _hell_?!" he slurred, seemingly unable to put his frustration into better words.

Fuguki pinched the bridge of his nose and winced, so flustered he felt like he was going to keel over. "What the hell indeed," he grated. "You have no idea what you're doing right now!"

"I knew it," Kisame growled as if he hadn't heard a single word the older man had said. "I'm too fuckin' old for you!" The complaint was accompanied by a wild gesture that spilled even more sake.

"Yah, sure," the older man replied sarcastically. "That explains why I have a painful erection right now." He scowled and retreated another step, afraid that the boy would pull him back in like a magnet. "I'm going to bed," he stated. "And don't bother following me... I'm locking the door!" With that said, he abruptly turned and walked away, forcing himself to ignore his protege's drunken response, which was something in between an insult and a plea.

Once inside his bedroom, he laid down and glared at the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest. Even though he was drunk, he didn't sleep a wink - he just kept staring at the same crack in the ceiling until the sun rose.

X X X

Kisame awoke to the most vicious hangover he'd ever had in his life - his head felt like it was being squeezed by a vice, his mouth was so parched he couldn't even swallow, and his eyes refused to work, seeing nothing but blurred double images. For several minutes he drifted in and out of consciousness, refusing to fully awaken the booze-drenched wreck that composed his body.

Finally, his maddening thirst forced him into action. He slowly rose to a sitting position, nearly fainting from his wretched migraine. The pain was so severe it was even accompanied by sound - a high-pitched wail as though a klaxon was blaring in his brain. If he had a kunai, he'd be tempted to slit his own throat. Death would be a relief compared to this hell he'd brought upon himself.

"Here, drink this," growled a rough voice. "It's water mixed with sake." A glass was shoved into his hand - he drank the contents without even wondering who the fuck was standing in front of him. It wasn't until his vision cleared up that he realized it was Fuguki. His superior was scowling, his auburn hair sticking out in disheveled spikes... he looked as hungover as Kisame felt. A bit more looking around verified that this was indeed Fuguki's house - the old-world furniture and decorations always made him feel as though he'd stepped into a time machine.

Why he was here, he had no idea. Nor did he give a shit at the moment. "Give me more," he muttered hoarsely, shoving the glass back at his superior.

"Fine," Fuguki growled, grudgingly moving to pour him some more of the concoction. "But you'd better not puke it up."

"Ugh," Kisame groaned. "Don't even _talk _about vomit right now." His guts felt like someone had tied them into knots and there was an ache in his side that was probably his liver.

It wasn't until he'd drank down two more glasses of the water/sake blend along with a bunch of aspirin that he began to feel even remotely coherent. "Hair of the dog is something Zabuza never understood," he mused, almost to himself.

"Zabuza's still in the hospital," Fuguki bluntly stated, crossing his arms. "You should get your shit out of his house while you can. I'm sure he'll rip it all to shreds the second he gets the chance."

"Uh... shit," Kisame murmured. "Now I remember." The events of the previous evening flooded back to him - his ridiculous fight with Zabuza, storming out and immediately buying sake, drinking half of it at the training field then the rest here with Fuguki. After that, his mind drew a blank. _Must've blacked out, _he told himself_. I wonder if I did anything stupid._ Judging by the way his mentor was glaring at him, the answer was 'yes.'

"You hit on me, incase you forgot," Fuguki grated as though reading his thoughts. "You're lucky you don't have a sore ass."

"Oh god," Kisame groaned, mortified. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I've never told a joke in my life," the older man curtly responded. He looked more angry than Kisame had ever seen him - up until now, the closest the man had ever come to showing rage was a mild look of irritation.

"Well shit, I'm sorry," Kisame said, bristling. "Don't beat me up over it... it'll definitely make me puke."

Fuguki sighed and rubbed his temples as if forcing himself to stay calm. "For crying out loud, I'm not going to beat you up," he growled. "I'm just frustrated and hungover as hell. I didn't sleep at all, thanks to you."

"What, was I snoring or something?" Kisame asked.

"Nah," Fuguki sighed. "You were just... _nearby_. I haven't gotten laid in..." He trailed off, dismissing the confession with a shrug. "You almost turned me into a sex offender," he muttered under his breath.

"What, you aren't one already?" Kisame joked. He was going to sling a few more insults but held his tongue when he saw the expression his superior's face. The guy looked like he was on the verge of commiting said crime in a very sadistic manner. Nerves prickling, he rose from the couch and stumbled a few steps toward the door. "Hey, I said I was sorry," he growled. "Quit glaring at me like that."

Fuguki pointed accusingly at the door. "Get the fuck outta my house," he snarled, "before I rape you senseless!"

Kisame rolled his eyes and let himself out before the threat could develop any further. _What the hell, _he thought to himself, crossing his bare arms in a pathetic attempt to brave off the cold. _Drama, everywhere I turn! _He'd had no idea his superior was still attracted to him... the realization changed a lot of things and forced him to ponder the possibility that maybe he'd been dumped out of guilt. _Empathy, from a man like him, _he seethed. _Ridiculous! _He shivered and plodded to Zabuza's house, his booze-muddled mind feebly trying to grasp an understanding. Fuguki was the least empathetic person he'd ever met... the asshole would probably slit his own throat before doing something percieved as kind.

_No matter, _he brooded_. I have more important things to worry about. _His old apartment had already been rented out so he wasn't sure where the hell he was going to stay once he got his belongings from Zabuza's house. If it were any other season, he'd probably just set up a tent on the fringes of town and rough it for a while. Unfortunately, the cold forced him to think of another option. Sure, he had enough money for a hotel... but they were extremely expensive this time of year and he really didn't want to squander his cash. As for apartments? They were probably all occupied. During the winter, people from poverty-stricken villages flocked to Kiri for its relative warmth and safety. Since the enforced peace of Yagura's reign, more and more broke assholes stayed here at their convenience, begging for change and squeezing into cheap efficiencies like canned sardines. The result was a sluggish economy and an increased crime rate. More importantly, there was nowhere to fuckin' stay.

_Well, there's no way in hell I'm going to make amends with Zabuza, _he told himself. _Bastard tried to murder me! _He still couldn't comprehend the reason or the result of their argument. And maybe it was his wretched hangover but he didn't feel any emotion whatsoever about the ordeal. As he neared his comrade's house, he forced himself to feel something, _anything_... but he could conjure little more than a vague irritation.

He was surprised to find Mei waiting for him outside Zabuza's house. She was bundled head to toe in typical Kiri winter gear - flak jacket, long-sleeved shirt, a headband that covered her ears. The concealing clothing made her look like an angrodgenous elf.

"What are you doing here?" he growled, bracing himself for a fight and unsure why. There was no doubt that she could kick his ass to hell and back right now - he was too hungover to even walk straight. Either way, her presence riled him even more than his fight with Zabuza. She was the reason for all of this! He felt his temperature rising as rage cut into his senses.

Mei took a wary step back, apparently intimidated by him even though he wasn't a threat in his half-drunk state. "Kisame..." she said haltingly. "I'm just here because I want to apologize. I heard about..." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the hospital, an uncertain expression on her face.

Kisame shrugged and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling his awful headache threatening to return. "Don't apologize," he muttered. "I'm too blitzed to give a shit right now." He grinned even though he didn't find the situation amusing. "Although I am curious as to why you told my comrade I was the best sex you ever had," he ventured. "I figured I was mediocre at best."

A blush darkened Mei's cheeks and for a minute she just worked her jaw as though none of the words she wanted to say made the cut for a spoken response. Finally she narrowed her eyes and scowled. "Are you drunk?" she snapped accusingly.

Kisame's grin widened and he laughed genuinely. "Avoiding the subject, eh?" he mused. "Fine." He walked past her, enjoying the way she shyly recoiled, and glanced in Zabuza's window. The living room was exactly the way he'd left it - cups and plates shattered everywhere, table upturned, blood splattered on the hardwood floor. "He's still in the hospital then," he muttered under his breath.

"Yah," Mei said, creeping up next to him to peer into the window. "I just visited him... he's so drugged up he can't even stay awake."

Kisame laughed again despite himself. "A broken jaw doesn't justify being drugged up," he said. "I bet they sedated him cuz he's acting ridiculous. Punching medics in the face, breaking shit."

A tiny smirk curved Mei's lips. "That's a possibility," she replied. "He's pretty pissed off."

"I bet," Kisame said. A fitful gust of wind caused him to curse and shiver violently. "Well, I'm going inside to gather up all my shit," he stated, teeth clenched. "You wanna come in?"

Mei scowled but when Kisame opened the door, she quickly slipped inside. He followed closely behind and locked the bolt, edgy even though he knew Zabuza was passed out several blocks away. That silent kill... how close it had been! He had no fear of being murdered - it was the fate of most shinobi - but dying over something so fucking stupid would most certainly leave his soul in a state of unrest. Eternal irritation... he couldn't think of anything worse.

"Wow," Mei said, shrugging off her flak jacket. "Looks like a crime scene in here."

Kisame glared at her for a moment before making his way over to the fireplace. "It _is _a crime scene," he growled. "If Zabuza decides to press charges." There were still hot coals from last night and after tossing on a few logs of pine, the flames were roaring again. He rubbed his arms and spent a moment kneeling before the fire until his teeth finally stopped chattering. "Either way, he was the one who started it," he muttered. "He's lucky he got away with a broken jaw."

Mei shot him a look that demanded an explanation. Kisame grinned and explained.

"A silent kill, over that?" she marveled. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" She was blushing even harder than before and biting her lip. A fight over her? It was undoubtedly stroking her already enlarged ego. Maybe that was the whole reason she came here... just to hear how awesome she was from first-hand experience.

"Don't worry about it," Kisame said as he rose to his feet. "Zabuza has a thing for you... but believe me, you're just another one-night stand to me. I've fucked so many women, it's hard to even distinguish you from the rest." He gloated at the horrified expression on her face as he strode to the kitchen cabinet and pulled out a bottle of sake. It was Zabuza's stash - the jackass was allowed to drink because he didn't have a 'problem.' He uncorked the bottle with his teeth and took a slam, keeping his hard gaze fixed on Mei as she practiced a calming exercise, a barely noticeable regulation of her breath.

"Zabuza has a thing for me?" she finally asked to deter her obvious humiliation. "I thought he went gay."

"He's as gay as I am," Kisame responded dryly. "He only fucks what's convenient. I owed him a debt and..." he gestured at the house enclosing them, "...this is what happened. But you, the way he talks about you... it's like you're some possession he can never obtain. You know how he is with women." He wondered at his own words, which had spilled from his lips before he could stop them_. I owed him a debt for helping me recover,_ he told himself_. Is that why I put up with his bullshit for so long? Hitting me, leaving me tied up all the time like I'm some piece of furniture._ He had no idea what a normal relationship was supposed to be like but he had a feeling that whatever he'd been doing with Zabuza for the past three months was far from normal. In some ways, it was even worse than his time with Fuguki. Aside from the occasional backhand during training, Fuguki had only struck him once, whereas Zabuza had hit him so many times in both anger and lust that he was literally scarred, his body riddled with bruises and bitemarks.

Mei took a few steps towards him so that they were close enough to kiss. "All I know about Zabuza is that he has a thing for biting," she said. "Just like you." She reached up and grazed the crook of his neck, where his infected bitemark was bared for all to see.

_Shit, _he thought, shivering involuntarily from her touch_. I forgot I was wearing this damn wifebeater. _He'd purposely been wearing high-collared jounin shirts for the past few months, solely to hide this very wound. _Months of effort for nothing, _he brooded sourly. He barely noticed when Mei snatched the bottle from his hand and took a large drink, her graceful neck bobbing with each swallow.

"Gimme that," he grated, roughly prying away the sake. "And stop acting like such a slut."

Mei laughed lightly, dismissing the insult, and pressed her body up against his. "Kisame, I think you're the slut," she mused. "Letting Zabuza fuck you over a debt?" She shifted her leg slightly so that her thigh was pressing into his groin, rubbing over his cock. "Sounds like prostitution," she chided.

"Damnit, woman," Kisame seethed. "It wasn't like that! And either way, it's none of your business!"

"That's fine," Mei said softly. "I don't care anyway." She tightened her hold on his bitemark, making him groan and bite his lip. "This whole thing is actually your fault," she stated, her voice becoming more severe. "All those bites you gave me... Ao saw them and made me confess." Ao was a morbid fucker in his mid-twenties who followed Mei around like a dog, perhaps hoping that if he was loyal enough, she'd throw him a bone. Also, he'd recently been copying Kisame's 'shark fin' hairstyle, using copious amounts of gel to make his thin hair do what Kisame's just did on its own.

Kisame clicked his tongue_. So that's why he's been copying me, _he thought. _He thinks it'll get him laid. How pathetic! _"I thought you came here to apologize to _me_," he grated, shooting Mei an annoyed glare. "Fuckin' harpy bitch-" His words left him when Mei dug her long nails into his punctures, almost hard enough to draw blood. When he caught his breath, he cursed and managed a grin. "And we were both trained as shinobi not to confess our secrets," he said dryly. "You probably just felt the need to _brag_. It's not like I'm the only guy around here with sharp teeth."

Mei's grip loosened slightly as his words sunk in. "Fine," she confessed. "I did have a choice in what I said. But still... who else could I have blamed? Zabuza's got enough rape cases on his head as it is, and Fuguki..." She shook her head. "He wouldn't touch a woman with a ten foot pole." All the other members of the Seven Swordsmen were dead - Mangetsu most recently from a violent battle in the Land of Earth.

For some reason, the words 'Fuguki' and 'touch' ignited Kisame's memories of last night - suddenly he recalled how his superior's hands alone had made his cock ache. Those calloused fingers had played him like an instrument, just the slightest graze eliciting a moan and a pang of lust. The memory sent a weird thrill down his spine_. His hands... _he thought. _Just his hands!_

Mei mistook his glazed over expression as lust for her - she twined her fingers around the nape of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, managing to slip in her tongue before he snapped out of his stupor and jerked his head away.

"Damnit, Mei," he growled, wiping his mouth and scowling at the lipstick that came off onto his hand. "My damn boyfriend tried to kill me last night and you're _hitting _on me?! Have a little tact!"

Mei took her hands off him before he could shove her away, a furious expression on her face. Kisame was absolutely certain that no man had turned her down before - she could hit on a dead guy and he'd come back to life just to get down her pants. "Whatever," she snapped. "You taste like a distillery anyway."

"Sorry," Kisame said sarcastically. "I wasn't expecting to kiss anyone this morning. Especially not you!" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I gotta pack up my shit before Zabuza storms in here," he stated. "I don't even know why I let you in! If he finds you in here with me..." He trailed off and shook his head. _More drama and violence, _he finished inwardly. _Lava spewing everywhere, blood spilling. Fuck that. _An out-of-place grin slid over his lips as he stalked over to the door and opened it, gesturing for her to leave just like he'd done before their one-night stand. "Come on," he prodded. "Get outta here."

Mei composed herself and brushed at her flak jacket as if he'd somehow gotten it dirty. "Fine," she said, following his lead. "But there was one more thing I wanted to ask you."

Kisame merely shrugged. "Make it quick," he said.

"Do you have anywhere to stay?" she inquired.

This made Kisame blink a few times. "I'll figure something out," he replied. "Now go, you're letting in all the cold air."

Mei turned to face him and smirked. "You don't have anywhere, do you?" she chided. "Well here." She took his hand and pressed something small against his palm. Kisame glanced down and saw that it was a key. "I know you're a ghost when you want to be," she said. "And I wouldn't mind it if you haunted my house for a while." Before he could protest, she lightly trailed a finger down his chest and left, disappearing quickly into the ice-cold mist.

For a while, he just stood there like an idiot, gaping at the key in his hand. _This is a key to her house, _he told himself blandly. _Why would she give me this?! _He felt an impulse to throw the key out or give it to a random creep but instead, he slipped it into his pocket_. Not like I'll use it,_ he brooded as he turned back into the house and closed the door behind him. _I'll just throw it out later._

X X X

He left Zabuza's house with little more than a backpack full of things. Plates and cups, pots and pans, his few sparse items of furniture... it all remained behind. Maybe Zabuza would have some fun smashing them to pieces when he came to. He had no need for them anyway. What would he do? Drag everything around in a cart? Mei was right when she'd said that he had nowhere to stay... there wasn't a single apartment for rent and the few hotels with vacancies had their prices so marked up that even his decent amount of cash would be gone within a week. While he avoided politics like the plague, it bothered the hell out of him that business owners took advantage of hard times like this cold snap. Couldn't they quit their capitalist greed for one second?! It was a useless sentiment. He could seethe about it all day and it wouldn't change a thing.

The absence of places to rent left him with very few options. There was always Fuguki's house... but after finding out his senpai was still attracted to him, going back there would just seem like an invitation to fuck. And while he was absolutely certain said fuck would make him cum like a geyser (his hands, just his hands!), the older man's haggard appearance would no doubt leave him filled with self-loathing. He knew that it was a shallow sentiment. Looks are fleeting! But nonetheless, it wouldn't change his inevitable reaction. He felt a strange bond with Fuguki, only strengthened by their shitty ups and downs, and it would be horrible to ruin it all over a pathetic dispute about aesthetics.

Fuguki: "But the sex was good!"

Kisame: "I don't care! Lose some fucking weight!"

So that obviously wasn't an option.

Which left Zabuza. It was possible that Kisame could come groveling back to his comrade, begging to continue the disaster that had become of their relationship. The humiliation, the abuse, the unreasonable jealousy... he could simply ask for it all back. 'I'm sorry, it was all my fault,' he could say. 'Please, I'll make it up to you.' But as trained as he was in the art of deception, he knew that he wouldn't be able to utter those words. It _wasn't _it fault! And he was sick of being treated like a battered wife! He'd rather impale himself on his own katana than be dragged into that cycle again.

The whole situation was just... _pathetic_. Zabuza was the first person who'd ever showed empathy towards him... and his empathy had been genuine. Recieving such love and attention had been so euphoric that Kisame had submitted to it immediately. _Someone acknowledges me, _he'd thought. _Someone cares about me! And damnit, a man as beautiful as him._ He'd often found himself gloating that it was a dream come true, imagining them spending the rest of their days together in bliss. A house with a yard, some pets, maybe an adopted kid from that wretched orphange. And a kiss that would keep its meaning and thrill throughout the years.

Now that three measely months had passed, Kisame's naive dillusions of love had dissipated. It wasn't even as though his heart was broken... it had merely atrophied. Reality was a bitch and there was no such thing as a soul mate - this was the lesson he took away from it.

With both Zabuza and Fuguki ruled out, he ended up sleeping in the basement he used for his covert ops, laying out his bedroll next to the furnace. Unfornutately, the sketchy location granted him little rest - he often awoke in a post-traumatic sweat, his memories of all the horrible things he'd done amplified as though the place was haunted. His disastrous mission with the cypher core squad came back to him most frequently... out of all the crimes he'd commited, that was surely the one that guaranteed him a place in hell. The fact that there was nothing else he could have done was no consolation whatsoever. His hands were soiled with innocent blood!

Over a week passed before he finally considered using the key to Mei's house... it was still sitting in his pocket, even though he'd sworn to himself he'd throw it out. As much as he disliked the way she acted around him, she was still hot as hell - it was almost impossible to pass up such an opporunity. Plus, he was sick of trying to bathe with just the small basement sink. Mei's house was enourmous - an actual mansion - so he was sure she'd have a pretty sweet shower. Selling his body in return for commodities? It sounded absolutely awful but out of all the perverts in Kiri, Mei was by far the most attractive. He supposed he shouldn't be upset about it... most men would kill for such an opportunity.

So he used the key. Things turned out exactly as he expected - Mei would let him sleep over and use her utilities in exchange for sex. She was so damn predictable. Her long red hair paired with her callous attitude even made him feel as though he was screwing a young, female version of Fuguki. He often found himself wondering if perhaps the two shared a relative somewhere down the family tree - it wasn't implausible. Kiri was a perverted town... people fucked one another out of sheer boredom, spreading around DNA and disease. More and more orphans these days were being admitted to the ninja academy because they possessed kekkai genkai that was supposed to be exclusive to clans. He wouldn't be surprised at all if Kiri came across another village's jutsu in this manner - acquiring sharingan or some such formidable ability solely because the shinobi here were a bunch of slutty breeders.

And he was really no different. When he was fucking Mei, his primitive instinct to pass on his genetic material was close to overwhelming. He'd keep his cock inside her right up until he came, envisioning her belly swollen with his child. Between her kekkai genkai and his massive amount of chakra, their kid would be fucking _awesome_. A future Mizukage! But he kept these sentiments to himself, of course. Mei wouldn't even let him stay over past dawn in fear that someone would see him leave her house - there was no way in hell she'd want to have a kid with him. The second she missed a period, she'd probably rip the poor thing out with a coat hanger! Either way, banging her without getting her pregnant made him feel weirdly sterile, like little more than a living sex toy. The fact that she treated him like an exotic pet didn't help matters... she often had a glint in her eye that suggested she would like to put a damn collar on his neck and keep him in a cage. She even told him to 'sit' once! What would be next? Lay down? Roll over? Beg?! His ability to tolerate other people's bullshit put him in _such _stupid situations.

December passed into January... the days just rolled by, none of them very remarkable. The only thing worth remembering was Fuguki's reaction upon seeing his molars once they'd grown back in. The man's narrow eyes had widened and his jaw had dropped - he'd poked his finger in Kisame's mouth and felt the new teeth without even the slightest hint of perverted intent. Just... awed wonderment. "Christ, Kisame," he'd gasped. "You are so damn mysterious!" It gave Kisame a strange satisfaction knowing that his superior found him intriguing in ways unrelated to sex. It felt like respect, which was something he didn't recieve very often. After that, the older man was less reserved about his curiousity. He'd ask Kisame if he remembered anything about the village he was born in - sights, smells, anything at all. Unfortunately his inquiries were left unanswered... Kisame's mind predictably drew a blank. After all, he'd been just an infant when he was brought to Kiri.

Aside from that, his interactions with people were pretty ridiculous. Mei kept treating him like a dumb animal and the few times he ran into Zabuza, the man was utterly hysterical. One second he'd apologize, the next he'd spout scalding insults, his words muffled by his wired-shut jaw as though he was constantly grinding his teeth with rage. Slut, whore, bastard, hooker, bitch, asshole, cunt. Every insult in the book. Kisame would accept the slander with his usual passive attitude, feeling vague irritation mixed with pity. _How did this happen to him?_ he'd wonder. _Did I make him this way? _The strong man he used to know had turned into an insane, violent wreck, sometimes too unstable to even carry out missions. It was the saddest, most pathetic thing he'd ever seen and he was helpless to mend it.

The cold snap relentlessly continued as did Kirigakure's cabin fever. People got drunk and fought each other in the streets, suicides skyrocketed, robberies were at an all-time high. Kisame drifted through the troubling times like a ghost. Not having a home made him feel more detached than ever, as if reality was just a weird ether he floated in. He found himself thinking even less than usual... some days he shut down his mind entirely and watched his body moving around on autopilot. Fuck, kill, eat, sleep, repeat. Why should a weapon have a brain? If he could live without it, he'd probably open up his skull and rip it out. Unfortunately, it was a necessary organ so he had to endure the few emotions it produced. Irritation, guilt, loneliness. And over it all was a sense of loss that he was unable to pinpoint. A loss of purpose, perhaps? Or maybe just a loss of self. He wasn't sure. Either way, there was something terrible happening inside him, a rift that kept growing wider and wider with the passage of time.

By February, he wasn't even sure who or what he was anymore. The only person who noticed was Fuguki - the older man would awkwardly ask him if he was okay then sigh with frustration when he didn't recieve an answer. _I'm not okay, _Kisame would think. _I'm not... *anything.*_ A listless shrug was the only response he was ever able to conjure.

He had become so disjointed and numb that his emotions actually shocked him when he was called to Yagura's office one mid-February afternoon. He almost never saw the Mizukage face to face and the summons filled him with a sense of foreboding. Ascending the winding stairs of the huge old building, his heart pounded in his chest and his head felt light. _Anxiety, _he thought to himself, swallowing a lump in his throat. _Haven't felt that in a while. _It was strangely reassuring, knowing his heart could still race.

Yagura looked even duller than usual - his gray eyes were hazed over and his youthful features were utterly expressionless. Kisame resisted an urge to poke him, just to make sure it wasn't a doll sitting there behind the oak desk.

"It's been a while, Kisame," the man said flatly. "Have a seat." He gestured at the chair in front of the desk.

Heart still pounding, Kisame had a difficult time making himself sit. "Why did you summon me?" he asked, trying not to sound as nervous as he felt. "Fuguki always gives me my orders."

The dead expression on Yagura's face didn't change. "It's actually about Fuguki," he stated. "He's been selling information to enemy villages, a crime punishable by death."

For a minute, Kisame was unable to grasp the words. They kept fluttering around nonsensically in his mind and he had to force himself to piece them back together. He'd been expecting a bit more small talk before getting to the subject matter... and he had _not _been expecting this to be the topic. "No way..." he finally said, his head spinning. "...There's no way that's true... I don't believe you..."

"That's what I thought you'd say," Yagura replied blandly. "So I'll show you the proof." He shifted in his chair and pressed a button on a black box. The face of the box started moving - Kisame leaned forward and gaped stupidly at the little people who appeared to be trapped inside.

"Is this a genjutsu?" he asked warily, his nerves prickling. Before he could stop himself, he got up and cautiously tapped the box. The surface was glass and the people behind it went about their business, no matter how hard he tapped.

"Sit back down," Yagura hissed, his vacant expression twisting into a scowl. "It's a damn television. Mainland technology. You've seriously never heard of it?"

Kisame numbly shook his head as he sat himself back down. He was still convinced that it was some sort of genjutsu even though Yagura had just told him otherwise. "I have no idea what I'm looking at," he muttered. His eyes wouldn't focus on the thing - his gaze kept sliding off to the side.

It took Yagura almost twenty minutes to explain the device to him and by the time Kisame finally reached a vague understanding, he felt drained and irritated_. It's not my fault I've never heard of it before, _he thought crossly. He'd been stunned the first time he'd seen a lightbulb too, and that humming icebox Mei called a refrigerator. Who wouldn't be? Mainland technology was frightening black magic_. Some day they'll make a mechanical assassin, _he brooded. _And I'll be out of a job!_

"Damnit, Kisame," Yagura growled. "Pay attention to the screen!"

With considerable effort, Kisame forced his eyes to focus on the moving images. The scene was a small, dimly lit room, containing two people who appeared to be talking to each other. There was no sound. After some more squinting, he eventually recognized the taller person as Fuguki and the other was unmistakeably Ibiki Morino, the captain of Konoha's torture and interrogation squad who had caused the whole cypher core disaster.

"Ibiki," he said aloud, his blood running cold. "Why's he talking to that bastard?!"

"Just watch," Yagura sighed.

The two men talked for a while and even though there was no sound, Kisame was able to pick up bits and pieces of the conversation by reading their lips.

"... Hoshigaki slaughtered an entire squad to prevent these codes from leaking..."

"... I know what happened... I gave him the orders..."

"... that's cold... even for you, Fuguki."

"Oh god," Kisame gasped, his vision blurring. His muscles tensed and goosebumps raised up on his skin. When he saw Fuguki trade a scroll for a big roll of cash, he felt something within him snap. For a minute, he couldn't even breathe. "This isn't happening," he said, his voice hoarse and weak, barely over a whisper.

"No, it already happened," Yagura growled. "And he's been doing it for a while. This is just the first time I've actually caught him in the act. He's sold codes and black ops identities to Iwa and Kumo as well."

"Oh god," Kisame said again. His hands felt wet - he looked down to find his fists oozing blood from where his nails had dug into his palms.

"You're the only one I've told about this," Yagura continued, not seeming to notice or care that the man in front of him was having a mental breakdown. "And I want it to stay that way. News like this can cause mass panic in a population so it needs to be handled with utmost caution."

Somehow, Kisame managed a weak nod. He tried to swallow in a dry throat, his gaze fixated on his bleeding clenched fists. "What do you want me to do?" he rasped, even though he already knew the answer.

A humorless grin slid over Yagura's lips. "I want you to take care of it," he stated. "Your job as a Kirigakure assassin is to eliminate threats to the village... and it's obvious that Fuguki has become a threat."

"So you want me to..." Kisame trailed off and closed his eyes. He felt like he might faint. After months of feeling so numb, his tolerance for emotions had waned, just like his tolerance for booze had diminished during his time with Zabuza. He had to take himself through a long calming exercise before he could even finish his sentence. "You want me to kill him," he finally said, his eyes still closed. "But Fuguki is too well known. He can't just... _disappear_."

"He can and he will," Yagura curtly replied. "And once he's little more than ash in the basement's incinerator, I'll release the truth about his crimes. You'll be in the clear."

Kisame opened his eyes and glanced briefly at Yagura. _Ash in the basement's incinerator, _he wondered incredulously_. Is that how you talk about someone who's been your comrade all your life? Don't you feel anything at all?! _Perhaps Fuguki had good reason to no longer call the man by his name... whether it was the stress of being an unpopular Mizukage or something more sinister, there was no semblance of humanity left within the jinchuriki. "There must be another way," he said quietly. "Imprisonment or-"

"Are you questioning me, Kisame?" Yagura snapped, harshly cutting him off. "I just gave you an order! Now _obey _it!" He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples as though he had a headache. "I already set things up," he continued in a calmer voice. "I told him to meet with you two nights from now for a mission, the details of which I fabricated. He won't be expecting an attack, especially not from you. I want you to use a trap and get it over with quietly... it would be a disaster if you two battled each other to the point where people heard the noise and discovered that basement's existance. Even I wouldn't be able to cover it up."

Kisame scowled and shook his head, unable to hide his distress. "Why did you set this up before consulting me?" he growled. "Did you just assume I'd be okay with it?" He forced his hands to unclench and glared down at the bloody indents in his palm. "It doesn't matter whether or not you can cover it up," he breathed. "I can't kill him. I refuse."

Yagura's eyes narrowed and surprisingly, he smiled. The smile almost looked gentle on his youthful face. "That's why I value you as an assassin," he mused. "You have morals, even in this situation. You probably wouldn't kill a fly unless you were ordered to, would you?" The smile Kisame had mistook for empathy hardened into a fear-inducing leer. "You can refuse if you like," he continued. "But if you do, I'll take him down myself... and I won't be kind. It's been a while since Kiri had a public execution and I think it might boost morale. I'll announce him as a traitor and make a show of torturing him... perhaps I'll rip his pretty hair out of his skull before beheading him." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers to hide his horrible grin. "So yes, you have a choice. What would you prefer?"

Before he could stop himself, Kisame rose violently from his chair and slammed his hands on the desk, glaring down fiercely at the Mizukage. "Maybe I'd prefer to murder you here and now," he hissed. "A man like you doesn't deserve to rule this village!" He'd never fought a jinchuriki before but from what he'd heard, their formidable chakra was loosely based on the number of their biju's tails. _Only three tails' worth, _he thought heatedly. _I bet I have more than that!_

Yagura didn't move a muscle and his smile seemed to be frozen on his face. "When is the last time you saw a war?" he asked calmly.

Kisame cursed under his breath, his muscles so rigid it hurt. "What does that have to do with anything?" he grated. He'd seen a war when he was still living at the orphanage... all he remembered about it was a lot of fire and screaming. Kiri's population had been cut by a third over those few days and the only reason he'd survived was because no one, not even enemies, gave a _shit _about orphans.

"It has to do with everything," Yagura insisted. "Since I became Mizukage, there hasn't been a single war. Our village hasn't come under attack in over a decade! And do you want to know why?" He looked up at Kisame as if expecting a response. After a few seconds of tense silence, he continued. "It's because I rule Kiri with an iron fist," he growled. "I enforce peace, no matter what the cost. Ever since becoming a Kage, my only goal has been to protect this village! And as a result?" He shook his head and his grin faded slightly, giving him a sad, wistful appearance. "I'm hated, Kisame. I'm viewed as a tyrant. But like all shinobi, I know that self-sacrifice is necessary. My reputation doesn't matter a bit. And peace is a difficult thing to enforce... it's human nature to want turmoil. People become bored without violence. Look at this place now!" He gestured vaguely at the window behind him that overlooked the gray haze of the village. "Domestic violence, suicide, robberies... everyone's restless. But it's better than war, is it not? I'm being completely honest when I say it's the best I can do. And as my most elite assassin, you also know the meaning of sacrifice. Your life, your emotions, your soul... everything's taken from you when you're in this line of work. But it's worth it because even if we're just tools, we're used to protect our people. We have a _purpose_."

Kisame's hand twitched slightly against the desk. During Yagura's entire speech, he'd been analyzing both of their reaction times. Just from watching the way the older man's muscles moved, he knew for a fact that he could draw his katana and deliver a lethal blow before the jinchuriki could conjur up the momentum to stop him. One quick slash and it would all be over. But the word 'purpose' rang in his head like a chant, forcing him to still his murderous intent. _Purpose,_ he thought deleriously. _I have a purpose. _He made himself remember the fire and bloodshed he'd witnessed during that war so long ago... women knived in the back, men gutting each other, mortally wounded children wandering around in a trauma-induced stupor. The carnage had sparked something fierce in his young mind - he'd known this horrible massacre was similar to what had happened to his own village. _This is why my family is dead,_ he'd thought. _This is why I'm here! _Ever since then, he'd possessed a cold, unwavering determination to prevent such violence, regardless of the cost. Even if the cost was his own humanity. _Your life, your emotions, your soul, _Yagura had said. _But it's worth it. _

"Damnit," he muttered, glaring at Yagura as he straightened himself. "You can deliver a pretty convincing speech."

"It's part of my job," the older man said listlessly. Where he'd been adamant and feverish just seconds earlier, he had once again lapsed into his doll-like demeanor. It was almost as though another person had given the speech.

Kisame sighed wearily and made for the door. Even though he hadn't been dismissed, he knew the conversation was over. There was no need to say aloud that he was going to go through with the mission... and he had a feeling that Yagura had known he'd do it from the start. He shot the man a miserable glare before leaving the room. _My purpose is to enforce peace, _he seethed. _But what a terrible life!_

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Oh man, I was gonna finish Kisame's flashback in this chapter but it ended up being so fucking long and I still have so far to go! There's actually more written but this was the best place I could find to cut it off. So yah, sorry. And sorry about the long-winded rant from Fuguki's POV. (Fuguki's pov in Kisame's flashback? Doesn't even make sense!) A reader actually suggested it to me and I found it so tempting that I couldn't resist. Unfortunately, I just couldn't stop writing. Anyways, thanks for bearing with me. The next chapter has some smut and is quite action packed.


	24. Chapter 24

*WARNING* Ass-to-mouth and later on, quite a bit of gore. You have been warned.

"What a disaster. What a complete fucking disaster." Pain's rippling eyes were wide with rage and even though his presence was merely an illusion, he looked as though he might pounce on Sasori and rip out his heart.

_With his abilities, who knows,_ Sasori thought, shifting edgily. He'd known this summons was going to happen eventually and now that he was here, things were going decidedly worse than he'd expected. With Deidara too grief stricken to be coherent and Kisame on his deathbed, all the blame was currently resting on him for the epic failure of their mission. He was certain he'd endured more verbal abuse in the past thirty minutes than in all his life put together. Honestly, he hadn't thought that Kisame destroying the suiton lab was such a big deal - it was a step up from just observing it, wasn't it? But Pain was furious. _Orochimaru is going to retaliate, _he'd shouted. _Now we're all going to have to watch our backs even more than before!_

He looked around the cave to find all the other members glaring at him - Kakuzu and Hidan's eyes were narrowed with thought, Konan had her eyebrows raised with detached interest, Zetsu's white half was slack-jawed, and Itachi seemed to be staring right through him. Yes, even Itachi was here... apparently he had 'recovered,' now that the mission was over and botched beyond repair. And while he was as emotionless as ever, Sasori couldn't help but think that there was a smug glint in his eye.

"I told you we needed a damn sensory type," the redhead muttered into the silence that had settled over the cave. "If we could have seen Orochimaru coming, none of this would have happened!" He shot Itachi the coldest glare he could possibly conjure... the Uchiha merely blinked and calmly looked away.

"It happened because all three of you screwed up," Pain growled. "When you realized Deidara had been captured, you should have just cut your losses and aborted the mission! And look at us now - not only is Deidara out of commission until his leg heals but Kisame is on his deathbed! Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find shinobi worth a shit who'll join this organization?"

Sasori grinned despite himself. "Deidara and I were both forced into it," he mused. "So I don't know. I'm sure there are other outlaws wandering around who you can bully into joining." He heard a snort of laughter and looked over to find Hidan's eyes glinting.

"Kisame's not dead yet, correct?" Itachi cut in. It was the first thing the man had said during the entire meeting.

"Not yet but I think it's pretty inevitable," Sasori replied curtly. "He has a few hours at the most."

"If you already gave him the antidote, all he probably needs is chakra," the Uchiha stated. "Give some to Samehada and it will revive him. He's been on the brink of death more than once since I've been his partner... it's not exactly a rare occurrence with him."

_Bastard_, Sasori seethed. _How can you be so nonchalant about this?_ "Well, what do I do?" he asked. "Give Samehada a food pill or what? The thing doesn't exactly like me."

Itachi shrugged. "That might work," he said. "But in the past, it always just stole it directly from me. I'd wake up hours later feeling like crap and Kisame would be fine, like nothing ever happened."

Sasori clicked his tongue. "I doubt that'll be the case this time," he said dryly. "He's really messed up. Either way, I'll give it a shot. It's not like Samehada can injure me." He remembered how fiercely the creature had tried to stab him the last time he'd gotten near it - if he still had flesh, it would probably be shredded to ribbons.

"Well, just make sure you have plenty of chakra," Itachi warned. "If you're low, it could kill you."

"Ugh," Hidan interjected. "People saving each other's lives all over the fuckin' place... what is this, a bad romance?"

"It's starting to seem that way," Sasori sighed. "Anyway, unless there's more yelling in store for me, I'm gonna go try to..." He grimaced, embarrassed. "...you know... save Kisame's life."

"Please do," Pain snapped. "Because I can't punish him if he's _dead_."

Sasori nodded curtly and left the meeting, opening his eyes to find himself back on the hideout's porch that overlooked the sea. _What a load of crap, _he seethed. _Kisame doesn't need to be punished, for crying out loud! We've all been through enough!_

X X X

As Kisame continued to experience his life history, he cursed everything he could think of_. I don't wanna see this again_, he thought subconsciously. _Please, don't make me see this!_ He'd rather be subjected to a Tsukiyomi than relive this horrible part of his past - it was far worse than any nightmare realm Itachi could possibly conjure up. As he helplessly crept closer to the time of Fuguki's death, he felt like he was going utterly insane. It was amazing that the experience hadn't driven him crazy in the first place. _But then again_, he reminisced, _I did have a pretty decent distraction..._

After leaving Yagura's office, Kisame restlessly waited for the sun to set then crept into Mei's house - she would leave a light on in the kitchen if she wanted him to come over. He didn't really want to stay with her but it was better than trying to sleep in that basement, alone with his thoughts. He'd been doing a good job so far of completely numbing his mind and he hoped that Mei's arrogant bullshit would help him keep it up. He knew that the second he started thinking about his horrible assignment, he'd go insane... so listening to Mei ramble on about how she was superior to everyone seemed quite pleasant in comparison.

"You're later than usual," she said as he sullenly made his way into the living room. "What on earth were you doing all night? It's _freezing _out there." She was seated on her expensive leather couch, wearing a sheer nightgown that left little to the imagination. There was a kettle of sake on the coffee table that was probably close to empty - she didn't normally drink but this cold snap was driving her nuts just like everyone else.

Kisame sighed and collapsed into a nearby chair. "Why do you ask me questions when you don't give a shit what the answer is?" he growled. "It's fucking irritating."

Mei smiled sweetly as she took a dainty sip of sake. "You're such a casanova," she mused. "It's a wonder you get laid at all with a mouth like that."

Kisame still had the key to her house in his hand... he scowled and held it up for her to see. "Is it?" he sneered. "I don't think there's any mystery about it. You're a confused slut who has a weird thing for bestiality, am I right?" An exchange of scathing insults had become the norm for them... it was as predictable as the sex that inevitably ensued. And right now, he desperately needed something predictable. "Speaking of you being a slut, where's Ao?" he asked. "Don't you guys usually screw each other on Tuesday nights?" He'd been mildly surprised to see her kitchen light on tonight, as it was almost always turned off for her stupid weekly appointment with Ao. He didn't feel jealousy... it was just a mild irritation, like everything else.

"Damnit, Ao and I aren't like that," Mei muttered, pulling at the hem of her revealing nightgown in a feeble attempt to look shy.

"Oh yah?" Kisame growled. "I'm pretty sure he wants it to be _like that_. He follows you around like a whipped puppy! Don't tell me you haven't at least given him a mercy lay."

"No, I haven't," Mei retorted, curving her lips into an offended pout. "We're just on the same squad, that's all. And either way, he's on a mission... so you don't have to worry about your imaginary... _competition_. And yes, I know that rhymed."

"You a poet now or what?" Kisame mused. He grabbed the kettle of sake and poured himself a shot - Mei always had two cups set out, as if she was constantly expecting a stranger to come in and randomly fuck her. "Anyway, where'd he go?" he asked. "I saw the mission roster today and he wasn't on it."

Mei straightened herself on the couch, her gaze hardening slightly. "It's none of your business," she replied curtly. "I don't pry into... _whatever _it is you do. So you should give me the same respect."

Kisame snorted and suppressed a smirk. "I was asking about Ao, not you," he said. "And wasn't your prying the whole reason we first hooked up?" He leaned back in the chair and downed his cup of sake in one gulp. "I distinctly remember you being a nosy, rude bitch before I pinned you down and fucked your brains out," he continued calmly. "Then after that, I just remember how hard it was to fit my dick into your wet little-"

"Kisame, hold your tongue!" Mei snapped, her face as red as her hair. It sounded like she was giving a command to a dog, which was undoubtedly her intent. "I should put a muzzle on you," she added heatedly, her eyes hazing over in contemplation as though she was envisioning Kisame wearing said muzzle.

Kisame threw his head back and laughed. "Christ, woman," he chuckled. "You and your damn dog analogies. You know what you need? You should go to Konoha and snag yourself an Inuzuka. I fucked one of their women about a year back and she was definitely the kind of girl you could treat like a dog. Fangs, claws... she even ran on all fours! Call her a bitch and she'd take it as a compliment, I shit you not!"

"Jackass," Mei hissed. "'Snag an Inuzuka,' seriously? You make it sound like some kind of sport!"

Kisame shrugged as if to say 'obviously.' "Isn't that what you're doing?" he chided. "Dare I call it -" he broke off for a second and laughed again, knowing it was a stupid joke yet finding it hilarious anyway. "-Dare I call it _sport fishing_?" he finished. "I bet you have fantasies of reeling me in like a damn marlin!" He hooked his forefinger in his mouth and tugged at his cheek, grinning widely.

"Maybe I do," Mei replied, her voice soft. She narrowed her eyes and bit her lip, leaning forward on the couch to get a better view of her pet caught on a hook. Kisame's grin faded to an uncertain scowl - he hated it when she looked at him like this! When he started to pull his finger out of his mouth, she shook her head and hissed something under her breath that sounded like 'no.'

"For crying out loud, Mei," he grated, ignoring her command. "Does everything have be weird with you?" He clenched his hand into a fist at his side, feeling an embarrassed blush heat his cheeks.

"Says the boy with blue skin and gills," she mused, undaunted. "How can I be anything but weird around you? You're like a..." She rose from the couch and slid onto his lap, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "... A _rare animal_," she sighed, her voice little more than a whisper. "I can't help but want to tame you." Her smile was deceptively sweet as she ran a finger over his lips, just hard enough to slip in and graze his sharp teeth.

Kisame growled and shifted uncomfortably in the chair, resisting an urge to bite her fingers clean off. She wasn't wearing any underwear and he could feel every detail of her hot little cunt against his stiffening cock. _This woman treats me like shit_, he seethed, _but I still get hard for her like clockwork! _He slipped a hand under her nightgown and groped her perfect ass before sinking his fingers into the curve of her gash. She moaned and ground her hips, eager to be penetrated, as usual. As he complied, squeezing his fingers into her tight passage, she did the same thing to his mouth, probing it with more and more audacity until he felt like his face was getting fucked. He hated the way she managed to debase him - sometimes it felt like rape even though he was the one with a cock - but at the same time, it never failed to arouse him. It had been the same way with Zabuza... there was just something about humiliation that sparked a weird lust within him.

Mei cursed under her breath and eagerly pulled Kisame's cock out of his pants, stroking it a few times before guiding it to her cunt. "I don't feel like foreplay tonight," she moaned. "I just want to fuck your brains out!"

Kisame scowled around the fingers in his mouth. He wanted to object just for the sake of argument but all that came out was another growl as Mei pushed his hand out of the way and abruptly sat on his cock, squirming to get the whole length inside of her all at once. Once he was balls deep, he shivered and moaned despite himself. No matter how often they fucked, she was always incredibly tight and her passage seemed to be designed solely to fit his length - the tip just barely pressed up against her cervix when he was buried as deep as he could go. A lot of the women he'd screwed weren't so deep... full penetration had caused them a great deal of pain, forcing him to fuck with only half of his dick.

Mei stayed seated on his cock for a while, her face flushed, before slowly moving up and down. She put a hand on his hip to hold him place as she did do, seeming to care only about her own desires at the moment. It didn't really matter - Kisame knew he'd cum at some point - but it still annoyed the shit out of him. She was the most selfish lay he'd ever encountered and if she was any less attractive, he wouldn't put up with it for a second. Every time they fucked, he resisted an urge to overpower her. It would be so easy, too - just to pin her down and nail her until she cried, maybe fuck her ass while he was at it. Hurt her, make her feel afraid.

_Then get her fuckin' pregnant, _he thought_. Or... maybe not. _Impregnating Mei was a fucked up sentiment, especially now. Because despite Yagura's assurance that he'd be covered after going through with his mission, Kisame had a feeling that shit was going to go downhill for him no matter what. Murders that went public always aroused suspicion - it had been that way after he slaughtered the cipher core squad. A hearing, a jury, the whole nine yards... and even though he was pardoned, the term 'Monster of the Hidden Mist' was now used more than ever. 'Who can just kill their comrades like that?' people wondered. 'He really _is _a monster!' And after Fuguki's death, it was hard to say what would happen. A shinobi could be excommunicated from their village without an official charge. So even if he did manage to get Mei pregnant, there was a good chance he wouldn't be around by the time the kid was born.

_Well, fuck it, _he told himself. _Even if I shouldn't get her pregnant, I can still have my way with her. I might not get another chance. _Before his thoughts could allow him to hesitate, he easily pried her hands from him and flipped her over on the chair with one quick motion, pinning her wrists behind her back. She was so stunned, she couldn't even speak - she just froze, her eyes wide and glazed over with shock. It took a minute for her to struggle and when she did, he smacked her ass so hard it left a red welt in the perfect shape of his hand.

"Be still," he growled. "Or I'll hit you even harder!"

"Kisame-"

"And also shut up," he added, shoving her face against the seat of the chair. "I'm so sick of your voice I could vomit, you stuck-up bitch!" When she tried to speak again, her ground her face into the seat until she struggled for air. "Don't make me gag you," he said softly, passively watching her shiver and convulse until her face turned dark red. When he finally released his hold, she noisily caught her breath, gulping in air as if she would never get enough. She clamped her mouth shut once she was sated and glowered off to the side, too pissed off and embarrassed to meet his gaze.

"Good," he sneered in the same tone she used when giving her 'commands.' "Now raise yourself up on your knees." She was positioned face-down on the chair, her legs sprawled awkwardly over the ground. She seemed hesitant to comply but when she saw his open palm getting ready to strike her again, she dragged her legs into a kneeling position so quickly it probably gave her carpet burn. Kisame smirked, glaring down at her gorgeous, welted ass, then knelt down behind her, keeping his hand locked in a vice-like grip around her narrow wrists. She hated it when he fucked her 'doggy style' so this was half the reason he wanted to do it. And also, he knew of something else she hated even more...

"I'm gonna eat you out," he decided aloud as he crouched down further. "And then I'm gonna stick my tongue up your conceited ass." Since Mei was pinned down like this, he knew it was unneccessary to state what he was going to do... but the look of horror she shot him was priceless. He was so delighted by it that he had a hard time not laughing like a maniac as he spread her asscheeks with his free hand. Even though she was furious, she was incredibly turned on - her pink slit was swollen and so wet it was almost dripping. He was surprised that this situation was arousing her and it sent a thrill of lust straight to his groin. It was difficult to suppress his eagerness as he leaned in and ran his tongue over the slick gash, not quite hard enough to slip in. Mei moaned through clenched teeth and tried to clamp her legs shut but Kisame's knees were wedged between hers, forcing her to stay spread. Grinning, he continued to tease her, sliding his tongue up and down her wet slit, grazing her clit but refusing to indulge it. He'd done this to a number of women before and while they all had their own quirks when it came to orgasm, he knew quite well how to torture the hell out of them in the meantime.

"You're really wet," he murmured between licks. "I don't know why you hate this so much."

Mei's response was just a groan and a little thrust of her hips. She still seemed afraid to speak, which was fine with him. After a few more moments of teasing, he finally let his tongue sink into her gash. It was slick and soaking wet, her lips so swollen they squeezed his tongue. He'd never felt her so turned on before and he wondered if maybe this was the reason she hated oral sex so much - perhaps she didn't like men seeing and feeling her this aroused. And _tasting_. He hadn't tasted her since the first time they'd screwed but he remembered loving the way her fluids were so sweet and slick in his mouth. Now it tasted just as good, if not better. He had an aversion to sweets and a problem with food in general but when it came to oral sex, his appetite became ravenous. Gender didn't even matter... his obsession with eating someone's pleasure was a borderline disorder. He used to suck Zabuza off repeatedly, just so he could savor his precum then swallow his seed. The same had gone for Fuguki - eating the man's release had often been even better than the sex. It was more intimate, like consuming a part of the soul_. And as for you, Mei, _he thought heatedly_. I'll devour you!_

He spent almost half an hour eating Mei out, bringing her close to orgasm then depriving her until her cunt was a dripping mess. She'd been reduced to something sub-human, incapable of anything besides pathetic moans and squirming. When he slid his cum-slick tongue up to her asshole, she didn't even protest. He'd been teasing it this whole time, rubbing his thumb around it and lubing it up with her own fluids. He swirled his thumb one last time before replacing it with his mouth. She cried out but didn't tense up and after a few more minutes of torturing it, he slipped the tip of his tongue inside. It was much tighter than her cunt and he had to use his tongue like it was a cock to work his way deeper, pausing to let her get the feel of it before pushing in more. As he patiently worked his way in, he slid his hand down to her clit and began to rub it. He wanted her to cum like this, degraded in all the ways she hated until she felt just like the animal she'd been making out of him.

When his tongue was in as far as it would go, he gingerly started thrusting it in and out as his fingers increased their speed on her clit. She'd been close for an eternity now so he knew it wouldn't take much. After less than a minute of this, she cried out hoarsely and spasmodically ground her hips against his face as she came, her whole body shivering with ecstasy. When she was done, he kept his fingers against her pulsing clit and slowly, almost reluctantly, withdrew his tongue from her ass. It tasted just as good as her cunt - the reason was probably because she was obsessively hygienic and always cleaned herself both inside and out. After fucking men for the last few years, Kisame knew the routine and didn't really understand why a woman would bother to go through it. Either way, he felt no remorse at all as he bent over her and planted a kiss right on her mouth. She struggled and moaned weakly, her cheeks bright red with humiliation.

"That's so disgusting, Kisame," she rasped when he broke the kiss. In her post-orgasm buzz, she'd apparently forgotten she wasn't supposed to speak. Kisame smirked and slapped her ass to remind her, although he didn't do it nearly as hard as earlier. He didn't really care if she spoke at this point... she was already degraded to his liking.

"Oh, come on," he mused. "You liked it." He rubbed the tip of his hard cock against her asshole and laughed when she recoiled in horror. "You've never been fucked in the ass, have you?" he asked, teasing the slick spot with his dick. Mei furiously shook her head, terrified. "It's not as bad as you might think," he said. "If you relax, it actually feels good."

"Kisame, I swear to fucking god," she panted. "If you put that monstrous thing up there, I'll-"

"You'll what?" Kisame chided. "Beat me up? Kill me? Right now, you're in no position to do either." He emphasized the statement by giving her wrists a rough squeeze. However, even though he felt almost no empathy for her, he still didn't want her to brand him as a rapist. It was quite a conundrum. "How about this," he finally decided. "If you hate it all the way through, I'll let you give me a slow and painful death. You can melt me with lava, corrode me with acid, whatever you want to do. That's a fair bargain, isn't it? My life for a few minutes of possible discomfort? And you know I'm a man of my word."

"You'd better say your prayers," Mei grated. "Because I know I'm going to hate it!"

Kisame laughed, delighted. "Alright then, we have a deal," he mused. "But I'm warning you, I have a lot of experience. You might actually end up loving it."

"Whatever," Mei spat. "I've heard the rumors - you only have experience on the recieving end!"

"Hey, while that may be true, it's actually a good thing," Kisame assured her. "I know firsthand how much it sucks when someone does it wrong." Here was one rumor that actually wasn't total bullshit - neither Fuguki nor Zabuza had ever let him be on top, not even once. With Fuguki, it had simply been an unspoken rule... since the man had paid for every single round of sex, he obviously hadn't been obliged to do anything he didn't want to. But with Zabuza, it had been quite a bit different. His ex had such a fear of being topped that the one time Kisame had tried, he'd been met with violent resistance. Kisame had a feeling that perhaps the poor bastard had been sexually abused as a child... or _something_. It would definitely explain his extreme aversion to penetration, along with a lot of other things. The unreasonable anger, for one. But regardless of the reasons, it was a hard fact that Kisame had never succeeded in fucking anyone in the ass. He'd stuck his cock in plenty of mouths and pussies but that was the extent of it. It was pathetic that he'd been almost solely with men for the past few years and hadn't managed to get his dick anywhere near an asshole.

"Yah, well... if you hurt me, you're gonna regret it," Mei threatened. "I'll make you wish you were never born!" Even though she was still furious, she didn't sound quite as hysterical. Apparently, Kisame's assurance had given her a little shred of hope that perhaps, being sodomized wasn't going to be the worst thing in the world.

"Okay, well..." Kisame murmured as he slipped his fingers in her dripping cunt to wet them. "...It's gonna hurt a _little _bit. But you're a tough chick. You'll be alright." He swirled his index finger over her asshole then gingerly slid it in, using a gentle thrusting motion until he was knuckle-deep. Mei cursed and squirmed, her face flushed.

"That's..." she stammered, "..._really _uncomfortable."

"Hush," Kisame growled softly. "Don't be such a pussy." He carefully thrust in and out of her until the tight passage finally began to relax; when it did, he slipped in a second finger without breaking his rhythm. Mei moaned pathetically and squirmed again, seeming to be torn between fear and eagerness. Kisame had a feeling she was more afraid of enjoying herself than actually being injured. Nonetheless, he made sure to stretch her out thoroughly, eventually scissoring her with three fingers before he was satisfied that it would be enough. He was most definitely a man of his word so the extra time it took was worth avoiding a grizzly, painful death.

Mei was glaring at him out of the corner of her eye when he spit on his dick to get it wet. "That's so gross," she grated.

"What, the spit?" he mused. "Give me a break, it's just going up your ass. Were you expecting me to pull a bottle of lube out of my pocket or something?" He spit some more onto his hand and rubbed it onto the tip of his cock, sneering at her stuck-up pout. "It works just as good as lube," he said. "You're the first person I've met who has a problem with it."

"That's cuz you've only done this kind of thing with a guy," she retorted. "And men are all slovenly pigs!"

"God, you're fucking _vapid_," he muttered. "I can't believe you're a candidate for Mizukage." Before Mei could spout another dumb response, he withdrew his fingers and pressed the tip of his cock against her ass. Her features paled and she swallowed thickly, goosebumps raising up on her fair skin. She looked exactly how Kisame had felt during his first time with Fuguki. But he knew that the fear would melt down to lust within minutes - even though Mei didn't have a prostate, simply being penetrated by a stiff cock was a horny feeling in itself. _She's so into getting fucked, I'm sure it'll turn her on, _he told himself. _Well, hopefully it will. _Before he pushed in, he slid a finger over her cunt to see if she was still aroused and sure enough, it was hot and swollen, pulsing with need. Spurred on by the fact, he bit his lip and pressed the tip of his cock against her ass until it slipped in. Even after stretching her out forever, she was still so tight it made his head spin - he barely even heard her moan a loud string of profanities.

"Mmm... shut up..." he murmured, forcing his cock in another fraction of an inch. "Just relax."

"Kisame, you fucking bastard!" Mei howled, squirming frantically. "I'm gonna rip you to shreds!"

"Yah, yah," Kisame growled absently. "You can do whatever you want when I'm done. So don't act so-" His breath hitched as he pushed in a little more. "-_Dramatic_." He grabbed her hip with his free hand to hold her still as he slowly worked in his length, pausing frequently to let her get the feel of it. It was tempting to just cram it in all at once - he now understood why his male lovers had been so adamant about being on top. It felt _amazing_. Much tighter than a cunt. When he was finally in to the hilt, he was dizzy with lust and had to take a few deep breaths to keep his head level. Mei seemed to be doing the same thing - she'd stopped her loud protests and was breathing raggedly, her taut body shivering.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked once he was able to speak. "I promise, that was the most painful part."

The only response Mei was able to conjure was a hoarse groan. Her face was red and her forehead was soaked with sweat.

Kisame laughed harshly, loving how utterly pathetic she looked. _Who's the dumb animal now, _he thought heatedly as he slowly began to thrust. Evil sentiments aside, he knew how sore her ass probably was so he barely moved his cock in and out of her for a while, using a vast amount of self-control to let her adjust to the sensation. He passed the time by gazing down at her penetrated asshole - the pink ring was stretched to its limit around his thick blue shaft, tight with strain. The room was well-lit and seeing every detail of this debaucherous situation was sinfully erotic. He couldn't help but be delighted at how utterly monstrous his cock looked impaling her cute, virgin ass_. I bet Fuguki felt the same way the first time he fucked me, _he mused_. Like he was *defiling* me. What a wonderful feeling! _He frantically pushed his thoughts of Fuguki from his mind as soon as they had formed, deathly afraid that it would cause him to panic about his mission. It was a much more terrifying thing to think about than Mei potentially murdering him.

"Damnit," Mei rasped, breaking his train of thought. "Go faster!"

"Seriously?" he replied, shocked. "It'll hurt."

"Just shut up and go faster," she muttered under her breath.

"Heh... alright." Beside himself with triumph, he began to fuck her harder, withdrawing his cock nearly to the tip before slamming back in. Mei panted a curse, squirming her hips to meet his thrusts. Her switch in attitude was so drastic it was almost bipolar - it was as though she'd completely given up on trying to hate it.

"If I let go of your wrists, will you be good?" he asked between thrusts - suddenly, he didn't feel the need to restrain her anymore. She nodded briskly, biting her lip and flexing her hands impatiently. When he let go, she immediately grabbed the armrests of the chair for leverage and bucked against his cock, grinding it feverishly as if it would never be deep enough. _Damn, she really is a tough chick, _he thought to himself. There was no doubt she was still in pain.

He realized he was insanely overheated and spontaneously ripped off his headband and shirt while Mei ground him, tossing the garments on the floor. "Lemme get you naked," he growled at her, running a hand through his damp hair. She paused long enough for him to wrench her sheer nightgown over her head - she was hot too, her back slick with sweat, soaking a few strands of her red hair. The main fireplace was in this room and it was churning out way too much heat for this amount of exertion. "It's a damn inferno in here," he huffed. "Let's go to your bedroom."

Mei stilled herself and shot him a weird glare. "I don't want you to pull out," she said. "It'll hurt like hell!"

"Yah, yah," he replied. "I know." He flipped her over, slinging her leg easily over his shoulder until she was sitting on the chair, still impaled on his cock. She was much more flexible than any of the civilian women he'd fucked - it was one of the many bonuses of screwing a shinobi. Grinning, he scooped her up and rose to his feet, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. "You're light as a feather," he mused, kicking off his sandals, then his pants. "I bet I could carry you around all day without getting tired."

"That's just cuz you're crazy fucking strong," Mei said softly. "You're like a..."

"If you say 'animal,' I'll bite your damn lips off," he threatened.

Mei smirked mischievously. "Animal," she whispered. Before Kisame could say 'fuck you,' she fiercely pulled him in for a kiss, clawing his back as she crushed their mouths together. Kisame groaned and returned the kiss just as hard, biting at her lips and fucking with his tongue. As he made his way to the bedroom, their mouths feverishly raped each other, struggling for dominance... when he finally broke the kiss, both their lips were swollen and flushed from the abuse. Mei didn't have sharp teeth but her bites could definitely mar flesh.

"Fuckin' bitch," he growled, climbing onto the bed and laying her down beneath him.

"Bastard," Mei said sweetly. It was amazing how quickly she had recovered from her humiliation, amazing that she was able to uphold her harpy attitude even with a ten-inch cock up her ass, amazing that she wasn't reduced to tears. Simply _amazing_.

"Your ego needs a severe beating," he said, almost to himself. He leaned down and bit her nipples as he began to thrust again, torturing each one thoroughly until they were both swollen and red. Mei arched her back under his ministrations, grabbing the sheets beneath her and writhing her hips. Her cunt was so wet it was dripping onto his cock, adding to the lubrication. Kisame growled and felt it up, slipping a few fingers between the slick, swollen lips. It was like a puddle - his hand was soaked when he pulled it away. "You got a dildo?" he breathed, licking his fingers clean. "I wanna fuck your pussy too."

After a pause, Mei bit her lip and reluctantly nodded toward the nightstand next to the bed, blushing fiercely. Without losing his rhythm, Kisame reached over and rummaged through the drawer, messing up her organized possessions until he felt something phallic. He removed it and burst out in laughter when he saw it - it was slate blue and the same exact size as his cock. "I don't know whether this is flattering or creepy," he chuckled.

"Shut up," Mei hissed. "It's just a coincidence!"

"Oh, come on," Kisame prodded, grinning crookedly as he poked her in the face with it. "Just admit it... you're obsessed with me."

Mei scowled furiously and batted it away. "Shut up," she repeated.

"I bet you think about me when you use it," he taunted. "Calling out my name and shit." Still grinning, he licked the tip and lewdly sucked it, letting his teeth drag along the length. "Oh, _Kisame_," he moaned dramatically. It tasted horribly like rubber but it was kind of erotic, having a him-shaped dick in his own mouth. He had brief thoughts of stealing it and fucking himself in the ass with it - he'd tried the whole 'screw your doppleganger' thing and had ended up with a bed full of water. The clones would do his bidding and even act sexy up until things got heavy, upon which they burst into a home-wrecking deluge. But shadow clone jutsu on the other hand... if those clones could inflict damage, they could almost certainly fuck. _Maybe that's why it's a forbidden jutsu, _he mused.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and guided the dildo between Mei's legs, rubbing it over her slit a few times before pushing it in. She gasped loudly, her body tensing from the new intrusion. Two monstrous cocks fucking her simultaneously had to be a strange sensation. It looked strange too, almost like he had two dicks - he knew that some sharks had two and wasn't too thrilled about the analogy. Either way, seeing her so thoroughly impaled was insanely erotic, regardless of how weird it was. He got a rhythm down to where both were stabbing into her at the same time and it filled her up so completely, he could actually see the movement in her abdomen. _Weird, _he repeated to himself. _But hot._

After about a minute of this, the dildo became so slick with her juices that he could barely grip onto it. The entire area between her legs had become a wet mess - she was soaked from the crack of her ass all the way up to her perfectly trimmed patch of pubic hair. He could tell she was on the verge of another orgasm and couldn't wait to see it happen. "Here, take the dildo and fuck yourself with it," he ordered softly. "I want my hands free." She eagerly complied, grabbing the rubber cock from his hand and thrusting it into her cunt even harder than he'd been doing it. Her motions had a practiced ease that suggested she'd used the thing about a million times before. With both hands free, he sat back a little and slung her legs over his shoulders so that he could see every detail of her holes crammed full of blue cock. He was painfully aroused himself and had to control his movements to ensure he wouldn't cum before her.

Luckily, she didn't take long. Within a minute, her body tensed with the oncome of orgasm and her movements became more frenzied. "Kisame, you bastard," she moaned through clenched teeth, rubbing her clit with one hand, using the dildo with the other. "You perverted fucking _bastard_!" She came seconds later, her ass clenching around his cock as the peak wracked her senses. It was too much for Kisame - he came almost simultaneously, grabbing her hips and spilling his seed deep inside her. It was the first time he'd ever cum inside something other than a mouth and the feeling was utterly euphoric. It made him wonder how in the hell he'd managed to pull out every time he'd fucked her cunt. Drained and exhausted, he spent a while just sitting there catching his breath as his cock slowly went limp. Mei was equally spent - her eyes had drifted shut and her whole body was flushed with exertion. She still had the dildo crammed in her pussy and didn't seem to give a fuck about it at the moment. He snorted and gingerly pulled it out for her, looking for somewhere to put it and finally just tossing it on the floor.

"Hey," he said softly. "I'm gonna pull out."

Mei's eyes opened to lazy slits. "Be gentle," she murmured.

"Of course." His dick was soft so it slipped out easily, barely eliciting a wince from her. He stared down at her thoroughly ravaged ass for a while, admiring his work, before lowering her legs from his shoulders. "Let's take a shower before we pass out," he sighed. "You'll be pissed if you wake up in the morning with gizz all over the sheets."

A small grin curved Mei's lips. "You know me too well," she mused. She lethargically rose to a sitting position, her long hair tangled and disheveled. She looked as though she was going to say something else but instead, she grabbed Kisame's shoulder and pulled him in for a kiss. It was nothing like their usual tongue battle - it was soft, slow and gentle, causing Kisame's heart to flutter in his chest for reasons he didn't understand. When they finally broke the kiss, his face was hot and he knew he was blushing. So was she... her cheeks were flushed and there was a strange look in her eyes that he'd never seen before.

"Come on, let's go shower," he muttered, afraid that he'd say something stupid if he kept staring at her. He rose from the bed and popped his back, then reached over to help her up. She was so tired she was almost ragdoll limp - he found himself practically carrying her to the bathroom.

Once in the shower, he did most of the work, soaping her up and gently scrubbing her clean while she leaned against a wall. He even washed her hair. The ministrations reminded him of the way Zabuza had done this the first time they'd fucked, tenderly caring for him after all his sadistic abuse. Unfortunately, that was the only time the man had been so thoughtful - toward the end, he'd become downright evil, leaving Kisame tied up and miserable long after the sex was over. After letting someone fuck you in the ass, you deserved at least _some _respect! Because even though it was arousing, it was a painful and exhausting ordeal. It had obviously taken its toll on Mei, who was listless and half-asleep as he bathed her.

When they were both clean, he turned off the water and toweled her off before drying himself. She helped him a little bit, wringing out her long hair and combing out the tangles. All of her makeup had washed away and she looked even prettier without it. Kisame wanted to go back in time and slit the throat of whoever invented makeup - he'd never met a single woman who actually looked more attractive with it on. It was usually the opposite... garish lipstick and eyeshadow made most chicks look like fuckin' _clowns_.

"Hey, let's go to sleep," he told Mei once she was dried off. He scooped her up and carried her back to the bedroom, slipping her under the sheets. As she curled up and got comfortable, he couldn't help but feel affection - she was so damn adorable when she wasn't ordering him around and spouting insults. Sighing, he forced himself to turn away and head for the door; ever since she'd given him the key to her house, she'd made him sleep on the couch, fully clothed. It was probably better that way - less chance of getting caught - but he still disliked it. It was just excessive confirmation that she kept him around for sex and nothing more.

"Kisame..." Mei's voice sounded gentle and sleepy, so different from her usual tone.

"What is it?" Kisame growled, turning to face her. _She probably wants me to wash her stupid dildo, _he thought irritably.

"Will you... stay in here with me tonight?" she asked. For once, she sounded genuinely shy.

Kisame blinked as he repeated the words in his mind. "What, in the bed?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course," she replied. "What else would I mean? The floor?"

He cautiously walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. "It's hard to tell with you," he said. "And also, I'm still kind of expecting you to murder me... you could be forming a handsign under the sheets for that wretched acid mist."

Mei sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm not going to murder you," she muttered. "Just get in."

"Eh, fine," Kisame relented, getting under the covers and stretching out next to her. "But I'm exhausted... so if you change your mind, just don't wake me up when you're killing me." He hadn't slept in a bed since his break up with Zabuza and it felt sinfully comfortable. When Mei curled up to his side, resting her head on the crook of his shoulder, he smirked and let his eyes drift shut. _She's like a different person right now, _he mused. _If she was this nice to me all the time, I'd probably fall for her._

X X X

He awoke at the same time he always did - about an hour before dawn. After staying over at Mei's for so long, he had developed an internal alarm clock that urged him to wake up and get the hell out of her house before the sun rose. He was tired, too... sleeping next to Mei had made him so horny that he'd woken up three separate times and fucked her. He felt his dick through the sheets and scowled when he found it to be hard as a rock yet again. _What the hell is the matter with me? _he wondered. _Maybe I have a condition._

Deciding that it would be downright cruel to fuck Mei for a fifth time in one night, he got out of bed and masturbated in her bathroom, grabbing her dildo on his way in and watching himself deepthroat it in the mirror until he came quite neatly into her sink. After that, he promptly got dressed and left. Mei was still passed out... he was tempted to give her a sweet kiss on the cheek on his way out but thought better of it. _After this mission, she's gonna want to forget all about me,_ he told himself.

Speaking of his mission, he had a considerable amount of prep work to do. He loathed traps and rarely used them so it was going to take some time and effort to make one that could actually kill Fuguki. While it was true that his superior probably wouldn't be expecting to meet his demise tonight, Kisame didn't want to take any chances. He liked to be thorough with his assassinations.

As these thoughts ran through his mind, he felt nothing whatsoever. Switching off his emotions was a skill he couldn't survive without in this profession and it applied more than ever right now - he was grateful for all the horrific training he'd endured to get to this level of control. He wandered over to a teahouse and ate a bland breakfast of rice balls and green tea, agonizing over various strategies as the morning slowly progressed. A waitress who knew him tried to start some small talk but eventually gave up after receiving about a million rote responses.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine."

"What are you up to today?"

"Not much."

"Any exciting missions coming up?"

"Nah."

It was impossible to plan a murder and hold a conversation at the same time. When he left the teahouse, he gave the poor girl a larger-than-normal tip as a condolence for his boring company, amongst other things. He'd fucked her in the cramped, ill-lit kitchen pantry a few months back and had accidentally shoved her face into a bag of wasabi powder. It had messed her up so bad, she'd actually had to go to the hospital... so needless to say, he was surprised she still talked to him at all.

Despite the distraction of the waitress, he'd managed to piece together a feasible trap and all the components he would need. While most of the shit was already in the basement's vast armory, there were a few things he had to pick up from a weapons store. Chains, for one. And trip wire. He'd used the last of his trip wire to protect the cipher core squad - a lot of good that had done!

When he got to the store, he had to wait half an hour for them to open... it was still early morning, the muted sun low in the sky. He knew that the day was probably going to drag on forever, minutes sluggishly ticking by like hours. It was always this way before an assassination. After acquiring his materials from the nervous, sullen shopkeeper (she was one of the assholes who called him a monster behind his back) he wasn't sure what the hell he was going to do for the rest of the morning. The trap would only take a few hours to prepare and he didn't want to set it up too soon in the slim chance that Fuguki or Yagura would wander down there during the day. It would be horrible to head in for the meeting to discover either man chained up and slowly bleeding to death. _I guess I could train_, he told himself_. Not like I need to for this mission... but it would pass the time._

So after stashing his trap components, he headed out to the training field. He was forbidden from using his suiton out there this time of year because it turned the whole area into an ice slick but he could always hone his katana skills. A lot of swordsmen got rusty during the winter, preferring their warm houses to the harsh elements... since Kisame was pretty much homeless during the day, he was definitely not one of them. A few shinobi who respected him (yes, there were a few) always told him he was the best in Kiri with sword skills. He dismissed the compliments as awkward flattery but it occasionally made him wonder if there was a chance it was true. He definitely trained more than anyone else... that much he knew for certain.

When he got to the field, he was miffed to find Suigetsu Hozuki there, trying and failing to throw a kunai at a wooden bullseye. The kid was only seven or eight years old but ever since his brother had passed away, he was bent neurotically on becoming one of the Seven Swordsmen. Maybe in a decade his wish would come true... but in the meantime, he was just an insolent pain in the ass. Scowling, Kisame pulled a kunai from his weapons pouch and hurled it at the target, breaking it in half with the impact. It startled Suigetsu so bad he almost pissed his pants.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Kisame growled, walking up to the shattered target and picking up his kunai. "Do your parents know where you are?"

Once Suigetsu was recovered from his shock, he rudely stuck out his tongue and middle finger simultaneously. "It's none of your business," he huffed. "My parents don't give a _fuck _where I am right now!"

"Goddamnit," Kisame sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Watch your mouth. Kids aren't supposed to fuckin' swear."

Suigetsu grinned and crossed his thin arms. "You're telling me not to swear while you're swearing," he countered, as if he had discovered some loophole in the laws of physics. "Aren't you supposed to be a role model?"

"No," Kisame stated flatly. "Absolutely not... I'm the last person you should model yourself after. And also, I can cuss all I want because I'm an _adult_. If I swore when I was your age, my boss would've cut my damn tongue outta my mouth!" It was true - when he was working at the docks, captains literally disfigured workers who spoke rudely. More than one poor bastard was speaking with a lisp to this day because their tongues had been mangled by a knife. So went the lives of the unfortunate. Since Suigetsu was from the wealthy Hozuki clan, he'd never had to endure anything similar to Kisame's childhood. He ate well, never worried about money, and lived with his family in a mansion just as opulent as Mei's. He was the epitome of a spoiled brat.

_But there are also downsides to having a family_, Kisame forced himself to remember_. He's lost his brother. I have no idea what that feels like. _He supposed that it was actually pretty strong of Suigetsu to be out here training rather than locking himself away in his bedroom and crying like a bitch. "Well hey," he growled. "I have some time to kill... do you want to train for a while?"

Suigetsu's face brightened and he flashed a grin full of unfiled, even teeth. "Really?" he marveled. "That's so awesome, man!"

"Come on, now," Kisame chuckled. "Show some manners and call me sensei."

Morning passed into afternoon and by three pm, Suigetsu had finally learned how to hit a target with a kunai. This wasn't the first time Kisame had grudgingly trained the kid... he'd shown him some basic self-defense as well on similarly dull days. The boy just always seemed to be out here on the training field, making Kisame wonder if his parents were too caught up in grief over Mangetsu's death to be proper... well... _parents_. Either way, the punk was so exhausted that he had to carry him back to his house and dump him off on the doorstep. He gave the door a few quick knocks then made himself scarce - he was sure that the prestigious Hozuki clan would not be pleased to discover that their now only son was secretly being trained by the Monster of the Hidden Mist.

Either way, Kisame felt like he'd done his good deed for the day - not like it would make up for the crime he was planning, but still. He watched from a distance as Suigetsu's concerned parents opened the door and doled out a few half-hearted reprimands before hugging him and ushering him inside.

_Hmm... _he brooded, squinting up at the sun's vague position in the cloudy sky. _Three and a half hours til the sun sets. Damnit, there's still time to kill. _Sighing, he wandered back over to the same teahouse he had loitered in earlier and ordered a kettle of tea. Luckily, it was a different waitress this time - an older woman who rarely bothered to make conversation with him. Glad for the relative privacy, he grabbed a newspaper and laid it out on the table. Reading Kiri's paranoid, bullshit propaganda wasn't exactly the best way to pass the time but he couldn't think of anything else to do. He scowled at the headline, which was written in bold kanji with a lot of exclamation marks.

SUNA JINCHURIKI ON THE RAMPAGE! VILLAGE EVACUATED!

Kisame clicked his tongue, annoyed. _Again? _he wondered. _What the hell is wrong with that village? _He'd been to the Land of Wind a few times and the barren landscape had made him feel edgy and exposed. No woods to hide in, no rain, a horizon that stretched out to infinity in every direction... that landscape alone would be enough to drive someone mad. _Why is there even a hidden village out there? _he brooded. _There's nothing to protect... just a bunch of sand!_

Irritated, he flipped the page to find a number of 'threats to Kirigakure.' These articles were little more than tabloids, founded on only a shred of truth, at the most. KONOHA ASSASSIN SPOTTED LESS THAN A MILE FROM TOWN - TARGET UNKNOWN. _Now that's ridiculous, _Kisame seethed. _Sounds more like someone saw a mythological beast than a shinobi. _However, he knew that articles like this were fabricated solely to hide the type of missions he himself carried out. It was pathetic that Kiri's population was so easily duped. Strange new technologies, plans for war, dangerous jinchuriki hosts... apparently, these ridiculous threats were enough to subdue a society.

A few pages in and the paranoid headliners were mostly gone, replaced by vapid editorials, comic strips and 'lifestyle' articles. There was even a fashion section! According to the person (presumably a woman) who wrote it, striped arm and leg warmers were going out of style. 'The height of the Seven Swordsmen's glory has long past,' she stated. 'Their horrendous fashion sense should die along with their infamy. Solid, warm colors are in this season and stripes are definitely out! I'm talking about you, Zabuza. And while I'm on the topic, you could definitely do without those ridiculous bandages you always wear on your face... it doesn't make you look as mysterious as you might think!' Kisame sputtered on his tea, laughing despite himself. The writer was anonymous but he was almost positive it was Mei. Who else would dare to openly attack Zabuza... and about something so materialistic, no less? _What a bitch, _he mused. _Next time I see her, I'll make sure to wear fuckin' stripes._

Toward the end of the paper, another anonymous writer had a 'sex advice' section. This apparently slutty person always had a long-winded response to readers' various naive questions. He was about to skip over it but changed his mind when he saw that today's topic was homosexual.

Q. I've been seeing a boy now for a few months. We love each other very much but he won't let me fuck his ass because he's afraid it will hurt. I'm at the end of my rope... please help!

A. Your boyfriend's fears are legitimate... anal sex can be extremely painful if you don't know what you're doing. You have to go slow and stretch him out with your fingers first, then very gradually ease in your cock once he's ready. If he's nervous, it will just be more painful. I suggest you both drink a few glasses of sake first to relax, then when the time is right, begin to finger him during foreplay. While you're giving him head (or whatever he's into) wet your index finger and very gently slip it in his ass. Don't mention anything about fucking him... just let him get used to the sensation and see if he enjoys it. Make sure to stimulate his prostate - you should be able to feel it once your finger is in deep enough. If you take your time and massage it for a while, there's no way he won't enjoy it. If he doesn't start begging for more, don't sweat it. Let him have an orgasm then back off. He won't forget how great it felt being fucked by your finger and before long, he'll ask for your cock. Just remember to wear a condom when you finally do the deed... there's some nasty diseases you can catch if you're not protected!

Kisame smirked and sipped at his tea, wondering who the author was. While the answer was extremely idealistic, the guy (it must be a guy!) seemed to know what he was talking about. _Well, it definitely wasn't Fuguki_, he told himself. _He's never worn a condom, not even once! Not like they'd fit his damn horse cock anyway. _Out of nowhere, the thought of Fuguki suddenly made his throat tighten and he found that he couldn't breathe. Just one second of lowering his mental defenses was enough to set his mind reeling with panic - vivid images of fleeing the village, committing suicide, murdering Yagura, anything to avoid killing his mentor scrambled unsuppressed through his brain. His legs twitched with an animalistic instinct to run and a cold sweat broke out on his skin. Blind with dread, he hunched over the table and shielded his eyes with his hand, afraid that the waitress would see his glazed over expression and ask him if he was okay.

Several minutes passed during which he was utterly paralyzed, unable to do anything but raggedly hyperventilate. The breathing exercises he usually used to calm himself weren't working at all - his lungs simply refused to function, spasming wildly in his ribcage. He dug his fingernails into his forehead and clamped his eyes shut, searching desperately for a shred of inner peace. It wasn't until he bit his tongue that his heartrate finally began to slow down. Wincing, he focused intently on the pain, grinding his teeth down into the flesh of his tongue until it was all he could feel. By the time he was breathing remotely normally again, his mouth was full of blood. Shuddering, he made himself swallow it then quickly chased it with a gulp of tea.

"Hey, are you alright?" Kisame reluctantly looked up to find the waitress looming over him, her weathered face scrunched with concern. He hurriedly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then took another drink of tea, burning his mouth in the process. _The one time she decides to talk to me, _he seethed. _Damnit, fuck my life!_

"I'm fine," he managed to reply, his voice pathetically ragged. "Probably just... um..." He trailed off for a few long moments as his stress-fried brain scrambled for a plausible excuse. "... Just too much caffeine," he eventually finished. It was a shitty lie but it was the best he could do.

"You sure?" the waitress pried, her arms crossed. "You're shaking like a leaf!"

Kisame closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, wishing the woman would just disappear. "It's just too much caffeine," he repeated blandly. "I don't have... uh..." He trailed off and shook his head. "... Don't have... a tolerance..." Making his mouth form words was extremely difficult and he wondered briefly if retarded people felt like this all the time. Seconds dragged by and when he didn't hear the waitress leave, he opened his eyes and staggered to his feet, nearly toppling over the chair. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled wad of bills - after staring dumbly at it for a minute and realizing he had momentarily forgotten how to count, he tossed the wad onto the table and promptly headed for the door, avoiding the waitress' searching gaze like it was the plague. His legs felt like rubber and he was surprised he actually made it to the door without eating shit.

Once outside, he leaned against the front of the building and slid down to a crouch, burying his face in his hands. There were a few people out and about and he knew they were already gawking at him - unfortunately, his panic was still too severe to control. _Let them gawk, _he thought listlessly. _Maybe they'll start a few new rumors._ He envisioned it as a tabloid: MONSTER OF HIDDEN MIST HAS NERVOUS BREAKDOWN IN MIDDLE OF STREET! VILLAGERS FEAR FOR THEIR LIVES! And then there'd be some quotes from witnesses, of course. "He looked really scary! I thought he was gonna start killing people!" - shopkeeper, west side. "He was shaking really bad... maybe he was high on cocaine?" - dishwasher, business district. The tabloid would be crammed at the bottom of the front page, squeezed beneath the bigger and more serious article about Fuguki's horrendous murder and Kisame's immediate admittance to the insane asylum. There would be two photos amidst the text - one of the late Fuguki, one of wild-eyed Kisame frothing at the mouth in a straightjacket.

_Goddamnit, it's not far off the mark, _he thought to himself, trembling so bad his teeth were chattering. _I haven't even killed him yet and I'm already losing my mind. _Out of the countless assassinations he'd completed, each one had taken a little piece of his sanity. Fortunately, he was naturally a very sane person so he had a lot to part with. But he knew - he _knew! _- that this was going to finally drive him over the edge. No amount of calming exercises would deter it, no amount of booze or mindless sex. And whether it happened immediately or weeks down the road, it was going to hit him full-force at some point and he had no idea if he would be able to recover.

_You're asking too much of me, Yagura, _he seethed, clutching his head like it was going to explode. _I'll do it... but you're asking too much!_

X X X

"Kisame's freaking out, right in the middle of town!" White Zetsu's voice was poorly restrained with nosey excitement.

"He might not go through with the mission." Black Zetsu's contribution to the story was his usual, matter-of-fact growl.

Obito gave his bipolar spy a curt nod in response, his fingers edgily drumming on Yagura's desk. He'd been pushing Kisame to his limit in recent months to see if he was Akatsuki material and this was the final test. Just how far would he go to maintain peace? Could he take the life of his closest comrade to secure the lives of many? Whether he passed or failed, that was yet to be seen. "I hope he succeeds," he muttered under his breath. "He would be... _invaluable... _to the organization."

"Yah, yah," White Zetsu cut in, grinning with his half of face. "I think you've got a crush. Watching all my recordings over and over like it's your favorite movie! Personally, I think he's kinda weird looking... but whatever floats your boat."

"Can it," Obito snapped, irritated. "I'm straight! And the only reason I've been watching him so much is so I can correctly manipulate him into joining! He's not a damn _criminal _who I can con with promises of protection from the law!" He sighed and leaned back in Yagura's big, extraordinarily comfortable chair... Yagura himself was currently taking a genjutsu nap in another dimension. The only times he ever brought the jinchuriki out of his stupor was when he was needed for appearances. Such a prolonged hypnotism was beginning to have its effects on the poor bastard - he was falling ill from both physical and mental atrophy - but it didn't matter that much. Soon, he would be done with his social experiment on Kirigakure and if everything went according to plan, he'd come away from it much better off than when he'd started.

Yes, his reign on Kirigakure was no more than an experiment. Cut off from the rest of the shinobi world, relatively small in size and resources, it was the perfect village to test some theories out on. Furthermore, their social structure had already been brutal and rigid to his requirements - Kiri had been the Bloody Mist Village long before he stole the Mizukage's seat. The gory graduations, the cruel, brainwashing methods of training, the cannibalistic assassinations of malcontents... all of this had been in place since long before he was even born. So everything was already set! His desire to see if peace was possible without the bother of Tsuki No Me could easily be achieved in such a village. And it had been achieved - peace was fucking _impossible_. Since he'd stepped in four years back, his efforts to enforce it had only spawned more violence. Kirigakure was miserable, overflowing with ridiculous, booze-fueled murders, robberies, suicides, every crime in the book. And the reason, as far as Obito could see, was that people got _bored _without war. If there wasn't a threat of mass destruction looming over their heads, they turned upon each other to stir things up! Apparently, this was just a fact of human nature and no normal methods could quell it.

And honestly, this conclusion really, _really _sucked. Tsuki No Me was a pain-in-the-ass project, requiring years upon years of hard work... jinchuriki were fearsome opponents and there were very few shinobi out there who had the battle prowess to take one on. Also, the money situation was problematic - said shinobi needed to be paid a considerable amount to make it worth their while, after all. So if peace could be attained in some other way, it would be a lot easier. The fact that long-dead Rin wouldn't exist in this more convenient utopia was shitty but honestly, it was just a minor drawback. He'd been so many years without her that his grief had waned to a cold and very asexual hatred for the shinobi world. What would he do anyway if a powerful genjutsu brought her back to 'life?' He was a bitter, insane maniac with a fucked up face and prosthetic limbs... hardly the inept yet charming Obito she'd known in life! He'd feel awkward and embarrassed letting her see him, even if she wasn't real.

Either way, Tsuki No Me was his only option, regardless of how difficult it would be to achieve. He was bent, obsessively, on creating a world where deaths like Rin's no longer happened and he was going to reach his goal, no matter what the cost! Humanity was a sad, stupid species, full of petty differences that gnawed away at its own sanity. The only solution was enforced peace - and the only way to enforce peace was Tsuki No Me. It was surprisingly simple, once you boiled it all down.

"You're drifting off again," Black Zetsu growled, breaking Obito's train of thought. "We've warned you against that."

"Damnit, I know," Obito sighed, scowling. "You've told me about a million times!" Since his disfiguring accident so many years ago, his solitude had become more of a problem than a boon. It had started in that damnable cave he'd been stuck in during his recovery - having only insane old Madara and vapid, overly congenial Swirl Zetsu to converse with had made him spend more and more time with his own company. He was much more interesting than those idiots! Over time, he'd even developed other personalities to chat with - some of them morbid and serious, others feminine and seductive, one that was constantly angry and demanding. Apparently, this ability was actually an illness called schizophrenia. Supposedly, these inner voices could become overwhelming and coerce him into doing stupid things. Obito didn't really believe that he had an illness... nor did he ever do anything stupid. But nonetheless, he'd been listening to the Zetsus for so long that he grudgingly heeded their advice and kept himself occupied as much as possible to avoid lapsing into a potentially 'dangerous' inner conversation.

Hence the recordings. Not only were they an invaluble source of information... they also helped with the boredom of isolation, a lot. Zetsu had an ability to transfer what he saw firsthand into a hologram, based on the same jutsu used in the telepathic Akatsuki meetings. Although when this jutsu was focused and concentrated, it was _much _more realistic. Television (which had baffled Kisame to a hilarious degree!) paled in comparison - these holograms conveyed every detail of the recorded event, including scenery, sound, even angles he could manipulate on a whim. He could experience these scenes with more clarity than the people in them! And over the last few years, he had been experiencing Kisame's life in more detail than he cared to admit. Thanks to White Zetsu's love for inappropriate spying, Obito knew pretty much everything he could possibly know about the poor swordsman... from his post-assassination breakdowns to his weird eating habits to his even weirder sex life. For instance, he knew that last night, Kisame had stuck his tongue up Mei's ass before brutally double-penetrating her. Luckily, Zetsu went into a trance when he showed his recordings because Obito had lewdly jerked off to it, changing the angles and replaying their orgasms over and over until Kisame's huge, debaucherous cock might as well have been his own. And this wasn't the first time he'd masturbated like this - over the past few years, he'd been vicariously living Kisame's life, especially the... _intimate _parts. The fact that much of Kisame's sex habits were homosexual seemed oddly irrelevant. Obito didn't have a damn life of his own - when he wasn't pretending to be Madara, he was hidden away from the public eye, holed up in one secret location or another with no human contact other than the Zetsus. Shit, he'd never even kissed anyone before, let alone had sex! Twenty years old and still a virgin... pathetic! But thanks to Kisame and his plethora of lovers, he felt like he'd been laid countless times.

He knew _everything _about Kisame and those he interacted with, including countless mundane details. He knew that Zabuza brushed his teeth several times a day because having them filed had exposed the nerves, he knew that Mei was self-conscious about a birthmark on her thigh, he knew that Fuguki liked having his earlobe bitten during sex, he knew that Kisame often burst out in laughter from his own train of thought when no one was around. So yes, he did have a social life... it just wasn't his own. As a result, he felt a strange bond with Kisame, as if he'd been living the past four years at his side. They were about the same age, seperated only by a few months. Perhaps in some alternate reality, they would have even been friends. But as it was, Kisame would probably never know Obito's true identity - if they developed a relationship through the Akatsuki, it would be that of superior and underling, Madara Uchiha and one of his many pawns_. I know him so well,_ he brooded, _but he'll never know me, at all!_

_Oh well,_ he told himself. _This is the life I've chosen... no sense in being sore about it. When Tsuki No Me is achieved, nothing will matter anymore! And plus, I finally get to meet Kisame face-to-face tonight._ It would be his first social interaction with anyone in a long time, not counting the speeches he gave through Yagura or his chats with the Zetsus. No, tonight would be the real thing! He was going to reveal his true agenda to the swordsman... pour out his heart. Nothing would be concealed, save for his identity. Needless to say, he was quite excited_. Well... this is all assuming he doesn't crack first, _he reminded himself. _What a waste that would be!_

X X X

It took Kisame nearly half an hour to compose himself enough to get up and walk. While everyone was too scared of him to openly gawk, he was pretty sure almost the entire population had managed to catch a discreet glimpse of his breakdown. The street had become suspiciously busy and every time he'd looked up, someone was nervously looking away. Apparently, the Monster of the Hidden Mist having a panic attack in the middle of town was too exotic of a sight to pass up.

_Well, it doesn't matter anyway, _he told himself as he worked on his trap in the privacy of the basement_. By tomorrow, it will be old news. _Honestly, he found it ridiculous that his breakdown had caused such a stir in the first place... Kiri's streets were lined with vagrants, drunks and lunatics who were much more blatant about their mental problems. He supposed it was just the fact that he had such a sinister reputation - people didn't expect a killing machine like him to show emotion. And it had barely even been a _shred _of emotion! He hadn't cried, screamed, thrown a fit whatsoever. Had he been sitting on a bench or somewhere people were actually supposed to sit, he doubted that anyone would've noticed at all!

_I suppose Yagura's right, _he brooded. _People get bored without war. If my stupid problems are interesting to the public, there really is something wrong with society. _His thoughts fluttered over the morbid subject for a short while before drifting back to nothingness - his breakdown had left him too emotionally drained to hold any considerable train of thought. He supposed he should be grateful for the numbness but instead, he felt a hollow sort of defeat. He now realized that the crippling panic he'd experienced had been his sense of virtue, screaming out in desperation against the atrocious nature of his mission. And the fact that he'd had to subdue his own moral core to drag himself back to sanity was simply horrible. He knew that his personal beliefs were secondary to the safety of the village but never before had his feelings conflicted so severely with a mission. No amount of numbness could shake the sickening knowledge that he was about to do something _wrong_.

He fought down a wave of nausea as he made the finishing touches to the trap, pulling the tripwire tight across the floor where he knew Fuguki would step. He'd thrown up a few times already and now he was just dry-heaving, retching like a cat with a hairball. Even though his mind was dulled down, his body was still suffering from the effects of stress, aching and shivering, muscles spasming. His stomach felt like it was on fire and he wondered briefly if he'd eaten something bad before remembering that he always got nauseous like this when he was upset... it just usually didn't happen until after the assassination. But then again, he'd never had to kill anyone he was so close to before.

_Goddamnit, Fuguki_, he seethed. _Why did you have to betray the village? Didn't you stop to consider that I'd be the one Yagura sends after you? _The anger he'd felt when he'd seen that video in Yagura's office had waned, eroded by all the other elements he'd been forced to consider. He knew Fuguki was broke - even the stoutest stockpile of cash could dwindle after years of cocaine abuse, gambling and paying for sex. The fact that Kisame himself was the one who'd received most of that sex money didn't sit well with him, at all. _Why didn't he just ask me out on a date like a normal person?_ he wondered for the millionth time_. I would have said yes!_ Unfortunately, nothing the two had done together had ever qualified as a date - their insane, drug and booze-fueled fucking rounds were probably best defined as binges. Numbing their minds and screwing each other until they passed out from exhaustion was a textbook example of addictive behavior. The saddest part about it all was that neither man had wanted things to be that way... Kisame had inwardly longed for something deeper and the way Fuguki's eyes had softened after sex suggested that he'd felt the same way. Just a few words would have changed everything - a muttered 'I think I'm in love with you' or 'it doesn't have to be like this' - but it had never happened. Both men were too cold and emotionally stunted to confess their feelings. Thanks to this pathetic ineptitude, things had slid downhill until even the most profound selection of words wouldn't mend the harm they'd done to each other. And now here they were, their bond hurtling toward a brutal conclusion.

The phrase 'doomed relationship' didn't even begin to touch it.

_Well, everything's set, _Kisame told himself glumly as he carefully backed away from his trap. _All that's left to do is wait. _He glanced up at the battered old clock on the wall that had been faithfully ticking ever since he'd become an assassin - the rusted hands were pointing at six fourty-five. One thing he could rely on was the fact that Fuguki was extremely punctual. If he wasn't here by seven o'clock on the dot, it would be his first time ever showing up late for a meeting.

He passed the time by washing up in the basement sink, using cold water to keep himself alert. He was almost out of clean clothes (laundry had been the last thing on his mind today) so he wound up changing into the pair of Seven Swordsmen-style pants he'd stolen from Fuguki so long ago. They weren't as ridiculously long on him as they used to be, making him realize that he actually did get taller recently. A growth spurt at age twenty? Ridiculous! He supposed that his sparse eating habits had delayed it. Either way, he knew that through Fuguki's death, he was going to acquire Samehada and unofficially become one of the Seven Swordsmen... but he wasn't dressing for the part on purpose. He was just out of clean clothes! Honestly, he didn't even give a shit about possessing the Great Blade for its powers - he had so much chakra that it seemed redundant to have a sword that absorbed it. He just found it disturbing yet adorable that the poor thing was sentient. Unlike Fuguki, who always kept it bound up in bandages and never let it be... _whatever _it was, Kisame felt it should treated like a pet. He had no idea what kind of strange magic had created the thing... he just knew that it liked to swim and roll around in mud. He also knew that Fuguki planned on passing the sword down to him one day, although that day was nowhere in the near future. The man had been angry about something a while back and had shouted, 'you can have it over my dead body!' 'Fine,' Kisame had replied, equally furious. 'Maybe I will!' An ironic dispute, indeed. _What the hell were we arguing about anyway? _he wondered. His brain was too fried to remember but he was pretty sure it had been over something petty, like who should pay the tab at the bar.

When he was done washing up, he glanced at his reflection in the small mirror that hung above the sink, searching for any signs that might betray his true intent to Fuguki. People had always told him that his eyes expressed a lot of emotion but as he glared at the animalistic, black rimmed orbs, he saw nothing in them at all. He supposed it was an accurate reading - he was so drained from stress that he felt like his skull was full of cotton balls instead of a brain. The only thing he noticed about his expression was a slight wince caused by his hellacious stomach ache. He forced the muscles in his face to relax, un-scrunching his eyebrows and working his tense jaw until his reflection was a perfect mask of calm. His sharp, predatory features prevented him from ever looking particularly placid - his appearance made him seem frighteningly _hungry_, like he wanted to take a bite out of someone - but considering what he had to work with, he thought he looked relatively harmless. Fuguki was terrible at reading into people anyway so it didn't matter that much.

When he heard Fuguki swing open the heavy iron door that led into the basement, his carefully composed expression wavered slightly, betraying a second of sheer agony, before he forced it back under control. He left the washroom to find his mentor descending the stairs, a hint of excitement in his gait.

"Kisame..." the older man said, "I've done something I probably shouldn't have done!" As he stepped into the main room, the flickering light of the oil lamps illuminated his round face, revealing a feverish glare.

_Oh god, don't confess your crimes to me, please!_ Kisame panicked, straining to keep his expression stoic. _I have enough guilt as it is! _He managed a response of some sort and his voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. The trip wire was only a few feet in front of Fuguki - he was mere seconds away from stepping into it. It took Kisame every ounce of willpower he possessed not to shout 'stop!'

"It was morally questionable but I did it for... ... Hey, are those my pants?"

The hiss of the tripwire was a soft prelude to the harsh clang of sword-studded chains coiling tight around the man's large body, stabbing deep into his flesh amidst a gruesome spray of blood. Fuguki didn't even have time to react - only his expression changed, from excitement to agony. When Kisame dizzily took a few steps forward, his mentor was working his mouth but no words were coming out, just blood.

Hey, are those my pants? Shitty dying words.

Kisame couldn't speak either - he'd planned on saying all sorts of things but his throat was so tight he felt like he was being strangled. He wanted to apologize, reconcile, even beg the man for forgiveness... but he was rendered completely mute. All he could do was stare blankly as Fuguki choked and shuddered with death throes, blood pouring from his wounds, forming a puddle at his feet. When he reached for Samehada's hilt with an odd expression on his face, Kisame unsheathed his katana and delivered a lethal blow before he even knew what he was doing. His body was on autopilot, acting on years of engrained instinct to kill without thinking.

And then it was over. Pierced in the heart and most of his vital points, Fuguki managed to grate a strangled '_Kisame_', his narrow eyes burning with heartbreaking intensity, before promptly dying. His body spasmed a few more times then went limp - he slumped to the ground in a mess of bandages, blood-soaked robes and chains.

Kisame's body was still moving on its own as he tossed aside his katana and recovered Samehada from the corpse, callously ripping the trinkets off the strap as he shouldered it. The poor sword seemed to be on autopilot too - it was completely docile, seemingly unaware of its abrupt change in ownership. Perhaps for both of them, the murder hadn't hit home yet. It certainly hadn't for Kisame. As he stared down at his mentor's lifeless body, he was unable to grasp the reality of it... he felt like he was viewing the crime scene from some remote location. Other than the stress-induced aches his body was still suffering from, he was completely numb. He knew that this was because Fuguki himself had taught him how to stifle and delay his reaction to trauma, put it aside until a more appropriate time arose for grief.

_But I don't want to delay it, _he thought as he rolled the corpse onto its back with the toe of his sandal. _I want to feel it now. Something... *anything*. _Fuguki's face was a mask of agony, frozen in a rigid wince, and Kisame knew that if he looked at his own face in the mirror, nothing but a vacant glare would meet his eyes. He clenched his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood. _I've killed my closest comrade, _he mourned, _and I can't even shed a fucking tear! Goddamnit, I really am a monster!_

The sound of footsteps approaching behind him abruptly snapped him out of his thoughts. He whirled around and grabbed Samehada's hilt, preparing to attack. "Who's there?" he shouted into the pitch-black hall, his muscles tensing with a surge of adrenaline. His numbness finally subsided, replaced by a violent rage that was completely irrelevant to the mission. Quite frankly, he was just furious that someone would intrude on him during such a personal moment. _Can't this asshole see what's in front of him? _he seethed. _Can't I have a second of fucking *privacy?!*_

X X X

Obito was so shocked by Kisame's rage that he almost didn't reveal himself. Holograms were obviously no substitute for seeing things first-hand because the swordsman's intensity nearly sent him reeling. Intent to kill was so thick in the air he could _feel _it, like a chill - he knew that if he checked his arms, he'd find goosebumps. His teleportation jutsu made him a very difficult man to hit but he had no desire to risk his luck against this... _monster_. God, such strength! Just one well-placed punch would undoubtedly take his life. _I guess I picked a bad time, _he told himself, peering edgily through the shadows at the crazed expression on Kisame's face. _He is fucking *pissed!* _Spattered in blood, jagged teeth bared in a vicious snarl, he looked more like a wild animal than a human being.

Luckily, Kisame held his terrifying rage in check when he saw Yagura emerge from the shadows. After a few words were exchanged between the two, he even became calm - Obito knew all about the training the man had been through to quell his emotions and it peaked his interest to see it in action. A few regulated breaths, a barely discernable relaxation of muscles and the murderous glare was replaced by a stoic mask. Obito inwardly sighed with relief, feeling the goosebumps diminish on his arms. Forcing shinobi to become machines was a morally questionable practice but he was grateful for it right now. There was no sign of the dangerous animal who had been standing there mere minutes ago... this was just an emotionless drone, ready to be manipulated.

And Obito was ready to manipulate. He had become so adept at playing the part of Madara that he could do it without even thinking about it. The deep, solemn tone of voice, the intimidating, self-confident posture, the jagged hairpiece set so that only the disfigured side of his face was visible... it was all as natural to him as breathing. So the hostility and skepticism Kisame showed upon their introduction predictably waned to a muted sort of awe. For someone who despised Konoha so much, it was surely a profound experience to talk face-to-face with the man who'd almost succeeded in burning it to the fucking ground.

Once he'd delivered his speech, Obito fell silent, trying to read Kisame's reaction. Tsuki No Me was a difficult project to wrap one's head around and it was apparent in the swordsman's wary stance that he wasn't exactly falling head-over-heels for it. _But I didn't expect him to anyway, _Obito reminded himself. _It will take time to bring him over to my side._

"So you want to create a world where violence is no longer necessary," Kisame growled. "But a genjutsu on the damn moon? Isn't that a little extreme?"

"I've had that same thought many times," Obito replied honestly. "But I assure you, there's no other way. Your own experiences should show you how difficult it is to enforce peace." He glanced down at Fuguki's blood-soaked corpse and Kisame's gaze solemnly followed his, his predatory eyes blanker than a doll's as they focused on the carnage. "You've had to do terrible things for the sake of your village," Obito continued. "And it's taken its toll on you, I can tell. You're losing your direction, unsure of where you belong."

"You don't know a thing about me," Kisame muttered, still glaring down at Fuguki's corpse.

_I know more than you think, _Obito mused. _A *lot* more. _"I know you're not a monster," he stated, crossing his arms. "But if you stay here, you'll become one. Slaying your comrades is a burden no man should have to carry and it'll never end as long as the shinobi world exists. You will continue to sacrifice your own sanity until one day you'll lose yourself completely! I've been around a long time and I've seen it happen to a lot of good men." He took a few steps forward so that he was standing right in front of the swordsman, although not quite close enough put himself within striking range. "Join me," he said. "Become _my _comrade. Fight by my side and we'll work together to create a world of true peace."

Kisame's hard glare wavered and when he looked up at Obito, his eyes revealed a raw despair that fringed on madness. "I don't know what I'm supposed to think," he grated, his hands trembling slightly at his sides.

"You're not _supposed _to think anything," Obito replied, nearly drowning in that awful gaze. "I want you to make up your mind on your own. In the meantime..." He finally diverted his eyes and glanced back down at Fuguki's corpse. "... Let me help you clean up this evidence. We've been down here too long already."

Surprisingly, Kisame laughed, the sound harsh and out of place, then ran a hand through his shock of blue hair. "You sure about that?" he mused. "He's not gonna fit in the incinerator all in one piece."

It took Obito a fair amount of effort to keep his face stoic. _We have to chop him up? _he brooded, mortified. _Disgusting! _"Alright then," he said, masking his reluctance. "Let's get to work."

Two arms and half a leg later, he felt a chill run down his spine, raising the hairs at the nape of his neck. He knew what the feeling was immediately and when he focused his sharingan, he was dismayed yet not at all surprised to find the colors of two bright chakras hovering outside the iron door. _So that's what Ao's been up to, _he seethed, noticing the milky-pale hue of the Hyuga clan's chakra mingled with the rest. _He must have killed a Hyuga and kept it secret from Yagura. And I bet he's been hiding away all week, healing so he can use that eye! What a sneaky bastard! _He abruptly stopped sawing at Fuguki's leg and looked over to find that Kisame had also paused, his dark eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"Someone's outside," the swordsman growled quietly. "Samehada's bristling."

"Damnit, of all the times..." Obito muttered, wiping off his blood-stained hands with a clean corner of Fuguki's robe. "It's Mei and Ao, I can tell by their chakras. And Ao has byakugan, he can see everything in here! I have to go before my whole operation's blown but I'll do my best to help you escape." He quickly rose to his feet and walked over to Yagura, who'd been slumped in the corner like an idling piece of equipment this entire time.

"Escape?" Kisame echoed as he stood up. "What..."

"We've been caught," Obito hissed, nerves prickling. "If you don't escape, you'll be _executed_, understand? Now get the hell out of here before it's too late! I'll send Zetsu to aid you as soon as I can!" With that said, he began to teleport away with Yagura in tow. The last thing he saw was the supremely baffled expression on Kisame's face followed by a neon-bright gush of lava bursting through the door.

X X X

_Who the fuck is Zetsu? _Kisame wondered as Madara and Yagura mysteriously vanished into thin air. His mind was a mess of confusion but there was no time to tend to it - Mei's lava jutsu was flooding down the stairs, almost reaching his feet before he stopped it with his suiton. Unfortunately, Fuguki's corpse had been caught up in its path - now it was half-burnt, filling the room with the stench of sizzling hair and flesh.

"See, I _told _you it was him," Ao shouted, appearing through the melted remains of the door and glaring down triumphantly at Kisame. He scrambled down the stairway, tripping a few times on the bumpy, solidified lava, then skidded to a halt at the entrance to the room with Mei at his side. His left eye was squinted shut and there was a patch over his right eye, veins bulging grotesquely around it from the strain of using byakugan. "And there were two other people here, I _swear _it," he insisted, glaring wildly around. "They were..."

Mei tugged numbly at his sleeve, begging him to be silent. Her gaze was fixed vacantly on the horrendous crime scene before her and when Ao finally stopped using his byakugan so he could see normally, his jaw dropped in dismay. Kisame passively glanced around the room, noting the saw soiled with chunks of human flesh, the pile of dismembered limbs, the spray of blood that had somehow even reached the walls, and, of course, Fuguki's mangled corpse suspended in the solidified lava like a fucked up centerpiece. He'd never seen such a mess himself so he could only imagine how shocking it was for the two intruders. Poor Mei was pale and trembling like a leaf, her eyes refusing to meet his.

"You don't need byakugan to see what's happened here," he muttered. "To say this was a bad time would be a huge understatement."

"Kisame, how could you?" Mei breathed, finally finding her voice.

"I used a trap," Kisame replied bluntly, knowing she didn't actually mean 'how.' "He died before he even knew what hit him."

Mei shook her head in disbelief. "But _why_," she pleaded, her eyes large and brimming with tears. Male or female, she was still a Kiri shinobi so she'd been trained extensively not to show emotion.

_Is she really that upset? _Kisame wondered, feeling a pang of guilt as though he'd hurt her. He thought about telling her the truth, that Fuguki had sold information to the enemy and betrayed the village, but ultimately decided against it. Perhaps it had been that heartbreaking look in his mentor's eyes before he died or maybe it was just guilt... but Fuguki didn't deserve to be branded as a criminal, not after the price he paid for it. "I wanted his sword," he lied, shrugging. "I guess I got impatient."

"It doesn't matter why you did it," Ao cut in, presumptuous authority in his voice. "You've committed murder! And I'm positive now that you're the one behind all those disappearances over the past few years!" Mei opened her mouth to protest but clamped it shut when she saw Kisame passively shrug again.

"Yah, it was me," he blandly confessed. "No point in lying about it now that you've discovered this place." He unholstered Samehada and pointed it menacingly at the two. "So what're you gonna do? I just got this sword and I'm not too keen on dying before I get to try it out."

Ao nervously assumed a fighting stance but Mei didn't move a muscle. She looked like she was about to start bawling. "It can't be true," she choked. "I don't believe you!"

"Why the hell not?" Kisame growled. "Cuz I've been _fucking _you? Don't tell me you've been having delusions of us living happily ever after or some shit!" His breath hitched when he saw the expression on her face - she looked utterly devastated, as though he'd just ripped out her heart and devoured it. "Come on now," he grated, his voice coming out softer than he'd intended. "Quit staring at me like that."

"Delusions," she echoed weakly. "Is that how you see it?" She blinked and tears streamed down her face. "Last night, I felt something for you that I've never felt before! It was deeper than lust... it was _profound_, almost! Like we were _meant _for each other! And the way you looked at me, I thought that maybe... you felt it too..." She trailed off listlessly.

_Why are you doing this, Mei? _Kisame seethed, his throat tight. _You're just making it harder! _"Damnit, woman," he muttered, doing his best to sound annoyed. "I must have fucked your ass too hard or something because you're obviously out of your mind! We're not meant for each other... we don't even _like _each other! Hell, the only reason I ever got with you was cuz I needed a place to stay!" He glared over at Ao, whose face was red with jealous rage. "You should get with this bastard," he mused, still addressing her. "He's probably got a tiny dick but at least you wouldn't have to _bribe _him to get him in bed."

"That's it, Kisame," Ao howled, his voice ragged. "Your time is up!" He drew his katana (a weapon he probably used just in an attempt to copy Kisame and get laid) and lunged wildly at the swordsman, his eyes glassy with hate. Kisame grinned and dodged the attack easily, not even bothering to use Samehada to counter. Ao was a proficient fighter but when it came to swordsmanship, his intermediate-level experience didn't pose a threat. It wasn't until Kisame saw Mei poising herself to form handsigns that he finally became serious. The girl's bloodshot, teary eyes were narrowed into a pained wince and her mouth was a quivering line.

"Maybe you're right," she said, her voice shaking. "Maybe I _am _out of my mind! I must be _insane _to fall for a monster like you!" Her hands were a blur as she weaved her complicated signs and Ao returned to his senses enough to hastily retreat to her side. Trapped in the line of fire, Kisame barely had time to form his one simple sign for the water shockwave - the two elements clashed mere inches in front of his face, lava nearly reaching the tip of his nose before it solidified. The water around him immediately became scalding from the expelled heat and in a desperate decision, he expanded the jutsu until waves were roaring through the entire web of tunnels, flooding the place. The current sent him violently hurtling through the narrow passage behind him and he hit his head, hard, on a cement wall before steadying himself. Swimming out of Kirigakure was not how he had planned to escape but as he slipped into the tunnel that led outside the village, he remembered that he hadn't had a plan at all. _It takes forty minutes to walk out this way, _he told himself dizzily, _so hopefully I'm going at least twice as fast. I can't stop this jutsu now and I might end up drowning! _The infamous Demon Shark, drowning in his own stupid jutsu... he supposed it would be a suitable demise. Mei and Ao on the other hand had been right by the entrance so they were probably both safe and sound by now, which was a relief. He hadn't meant a single word he'd said back there - it was just better for Mei to hate him than to mourn for him - and he wouldn't be able to bear it if he killed her on top of breaking her heart.

Every passing minute seemed like an hour as he frantically swam through the pitch-dark tunnel, scraping his arms and legs against the walls until he was sure his limbs were stripped of skin. His lungs were burning, his head was throbbing, and Samehada was squirming on his back, clawing the shit out of him for no understandable reason. The weapon was acting like it wanted something but Kisame had neither the time nor the means to find out what it was right now. They'd have to learn to communicate later, if he survived this ordeal.

By the time he reached the steep incline that led to the surface, he was, and had been, drowning. He'd finally run out of breath about a minute ago and had blindly inhaled... now he was just floating with the current, his mind shutting down from lack of oxygen. When he broke the surface, he was lucky that the lip of the tunnel caught him violently in the chest, forcing a huge amount of water to come spewing out of his mouth. He gasped and coughed breathlessly for a while then spent a long time lying on the ground, his lungs sucking in air until his senses returned to him.

"There! Over there!" Kisame sluggishly turned his head to find a squad of jounin running his way. Apparently, Mei and Ao had already alerted the village of his treachery because these people were obviously performing a sweep. To make it even worse, it was pitch dark out and the fuckers all had torches, reminding him of a witch hunt. _What'll they do if they catch me? _he wondered as he staggered to his feet. _Tie me to a stake and burn me? _Considering how crazed the winter had made everyone, he wouldn't be surprised. He forced himself to start running, convinced that drowning would have been a pleasant alternative to whatever was in store for him now.

He ran and he ran and he ran. Fucked up as he was, he was still faster than his pursuers, and once he figured out how to get Samehada to heal him, he widened the gap even more. By the time he finally stopped long enough to look back, the sun was creeping over the horizon and there was no one behind him at all. There was no doubt he was still being chased but at least kunai and arrows weren't zinging by his head anymore. Judging by his surroundings, he had covered about forty miles.

_Yet another thing I can thank Fuguki for when I meet him in hell, _he thought. _He used to make me do sprints until I barfed! _He squatted by a stream and took a quick drink of water before getting up and running some more.

He ran all day, alternating between a jog and a sprint, until the sun began to set and he was so far out in the wilderness that he couldn't gage his location by his surroundings anymore. He'd made sure to get himself as far away from civilization as possible and he worried that maybe he'd done too good of a job. He was in the middle of _nowhere_. Also, it was right around freezing and while the cold hadn't gotten to him yet, he knew he'd start feeling it the second he paused to rest. He wasn't even wearing a coat, just a sleeveless shirt and Fuguki's worn-out pair of pants. _I have to keep moving, _he told himself. _I'll get hypothermia if I don't._

So he started walking. Even though Samehada had given him plenty of stamina, he could feel fatigue beginning to wear on him. Most of it was emotional - his brain was a mess of trauma that he couldn't even begin to sort through. From Fuguki's death to Madara's appearance to Mei's bizarre confession, he wasn't even sure what was what anymore. It was too much to handle. The sole fact that he was now a criminal who was running from the very village he'd sworn to protect was more than enough for the moment. He shook his head as he walked, dizzy with disbelief.

Time ticked by, punctuated by nothing but his own terrible thoughts. What have I done? What should I do? Where can I go? He had no answers that were even mildly consoling. Since he'd confessed to all of his illegal assassinations on top of Fuguki's murder, there was no way Kirigakure would ever take him back. _They'll be waiting for me with a sharpened guillotine instead of open arms, _he thought miserably. But still, part of him wanted to go back anyway and accept his punishment. _Maybe it would be better than spending the rest of my days running like this, _he told himself. _At least I'd be back home. _He was more attached to Kiri than most shinobi - after all, the village as a whole had been his surrogate family. He could sit out on the docks during sunset and almost feel the embrace of a loving parent. It was in the warm sunlight that reflected off the water, in the scents that rose from the crowded marketplace lining the riverbank, in the flap of sails unfurling as ships prepared for voyage.

_Ah, but it's gone now,_ he mourned. _If I ever feel that warmth again, it'll be while I'm awaiting my execution._

By morning, he was utterly lost, both emotionally and physically. His mind felt like a lead weight and he was fairly certain that he'd been wandering around in circles all night, too wrapped up in grief to pick a direction and stick to it. When he saw his own footprints from earlier in a track of mud, he sighed and sat down on a fallen log. _Let them find me, _he thought listlessly. _I'm sick of this already. _He slumped forward, resting his head in his hands, and let his eyes drift shut. He half-heartedly wished for death, in one form or another. _Hypothermia... arrow in the back... giant centipede... _he pondered as sleep drew close_. Doesn't matter... It doesn't fucking matter..._

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Ah, shit finally hits the fan! Exciting, right? And unfortunately, this is yet *another* chapter that wound up being too long so I had to cut it in half. I'm actually almost done with the next one, which I _swear_, is going to be the end of Kisame's flashbacks. There's gonna be a crazy fucked up plot twist, and also some, errr... cannibalism and tentacle rape. Yah. I bet you can you guess which character this is going to center around. Oh and by the way, I'm sorry about the ass-to-mouth. I really don't know what came over me, which is the case with most of this story.


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